


Holly Potter and the Animagus

by cheesew97



Series: The Biography of Holly Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Argyll, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Genderbending, Female Protagonist, Gay Male Character, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Hogwarts, Male Protagonist, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, Peeves - Freeform, Queen in the North, Rule 63, Sarcasm, femharry, femron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesew97/pseuds/cheesew97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly Potter, along with her best friends, Ronnie, Heracles and Hamish, are about to start her third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After one of the best summers she's ever had, Holly can't wait to get back to school. But when Holly arrives at Hogwarts, the atmosphere is tense. There's an escaped mass murderer on the loose, and the sinister prison guards of Azkaban have been called in to guard the school....</p>
<p>My take on a genderbent canon universe of Harry Potter. This year is setting up additional plotlines that will only really get going in fourth year. So don't expect massive changes from the books, be ready for a bit of a slow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diagon Alley-Holly

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Adventures of Harriet Potter: Year 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266485) by [Kleinnak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kleinnak/pseuds/Kleinnak). 



> So in my might quest to remove a copy of chapter 3, I deleted everything I'd posted so far. Thankfully my proofreader was on hand to send me the edited copies so I could post everything back, thus repairing my broken heart and shattered dreams. 
> 
> Bear with though, as I've said in the summary, this year is a slow-burn. It's a foundation year, laying the cement for additional plotlines and tweaks to canon. Minor tweaks it must be said however, primarily as a consequence of gender changes in the way of relationships and actions.

**Holly**

“Urgh, I hate shopping.” Ronnie groaned to all who could hear.

“We know, that makes the hundred and twelfth time you’ve told us,” Holly replied.

It was the annual pre-Hogwarts shopping trip of late August, and Ronnie hated it. For the past few hours she had sighed and grumbled through each and every shop. As a result Mrs Weasley, as well as most of the party, was feeling particularly grumpy about this.

“Well if it’s all the same to you then, Arthur and I will do the shopping without you!” she retorted. Mr Weasley didn’t look too pleased with that but held his tongue. “You lot can get ice creams and head back to the inn.”

Ronnie headed off, muttering something about “mums” that Mrs Weasley thankfully failed to hear.

“Thank you Mrs Weasley, but we can stay if it’ll be a hassle,” Heracles suggested.

“Oh not to worry dear, I’m sure we can manage.”

And with that Mrs Weasley dragged her husband by the arm to continue.

“So, we should probable catch up with Ronnie,” said Hamish. They could see her head weaving in and out of knots of shoppers.

“I need to get Hedwig some pellets and things anyway so I say we get ice creams after that,” Holly mentioned.

“It would be nice to have a pet this year actually,” Heracles said, more to himself than anyone else.

With that they trooped off to catch Ronnie.

They found her sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, sulking.

“Ronnie,” Holly said to get her attention. “We’re going to Eeylops, coming?”

The tall Weasley sprang to her feet. “Coming.”

Inside the shop were piled canyons and quarries of various pet food, toys, cages, and of course, the animals themselves. Screech, Tawny, Barn and Eagle Owls hung from the rafters, various frog species jumped about in their aquariums whilst rats scurried in their boxes.

Holly entered the section grubbily marked, owls in search of supplies. She was sure some boxes should not have actually been there, one even laughed as she passed. On returning to the counter to pay, basket full of treats, Holly saw the shopkeeper talking to Ronnie.

“And how long have you had him?” he asked her.

“Well Scabbers has been in our family a while I suppose, my older brother Percy had him for about seven years before I got him when he was bought an owl. 12 years I think.”

“Goodness!” the shopkeeper exclaimed. “Yes, well I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you, perhaps you’d like to buy a new pet? I have some Chameleonic Sudanese pygmies here.” He gestured to an aquarium where miniscule rodents flashed through the rainbow.

“I dunno....” Ronnie murmured.

“Well there is a tonic I could give you, not sure what good it might do.” He reached below the counter to place a small bottle of green liquid on it.

“I’ll take it!”

“That’ll be one sickle.”

Somewhat taken aback, Ronnie nevertheless acquiesced and pulled a sickle from her pocket.

“Thank you for your business!” he smiled.

Ronnie stood to the side to allow Holly room to place her items on the counter.

“Ah Miss Potter!” Holly rolled her eyes; every shopkeeper seemed to do this. “Will that be all?”

“Yeah thanks.”

“Twelve galleons and one knut if you please.”

Heracles and Hamish joined them as they left the shop, Heracles sporting a marvellous ginger wig. Unfortunately the wig proved the narrator wrong and leapt off his head, revealing itself to be a very large and very ugly cat.

“Argh!” cried Ronnie as it went straight for Scabbers. She quickly placed him in her jacket pocket.

“Sorry, he sort of followed us,” Hamish said as Ronnie tried to give the cat a kick.

“Personally I think he’s quite sweet,” Heracles defended.

“When you mean sweet, you mean looks like he chased parked cars?” Holly snorted whilst Ronnie threw him back into the shop.

“Yes well looks can be deceiving.” Heracles sniffed. “Oh Ronnie don’t do that, it’s not his fault, it’s instinct.” Ronnie glared at him. “I’m going to buy him I think.”

Ronnie groaned as Heracles re-entered the shop, emerging a few minutes later with the cat tucked up in his arms. It reached out a paw lazily in Ronnie’s direction.

“Now now Crookshanks, we’re getting ice cream first.”

“Crookshanks?!” Ronnie snorted.

“Yes Ronnie, he’s part kneazle I’m told, so I’d watch what you say about him.” Heracles strode off to Fortescue’s.

Holly had no idea what a kneazle might be but she could hear Ronnie mutter about Crookshanks being part raccoon.

Sitting down to ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s was one of Holly’s favourite events. She licked her butterscotch and raspberry ice cream as she let Ronnie and Heracles’ arguing wash over her.

“Hmm,” said Hamish. “Seems the Prophet’s finally started reporting on those assassinations.” He slid the paper over to her. “And it’s worrying the Department of International Magical Cooperation seeing as the last one was in Yemen.”

“Aren’t they going through some instability right now?” she recalled.

“Yeah, the leader of the opposition being killed isn’t going to help much.”

“To be honest I’d be more worried about mum trying to get me to go shopping.” Ronnie interjected.

“Yes well your clothes are getting a little small,” Heracles said quietly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing, you’re just growing, and well, I think you deserve a new set,” he salvaged. Ronnie’s glare softened.

Holly smiled. “True but you guys know we don’t like shopping.”

It was a good point; neither enjoyed what they saw as a chore. Ronnie hated it as it meant long hours spent with her mother commenting on how she should stop choosing so quickly, or that such and such a dress would suit her, or that something or other really complimented her figure. That she felt self-conscious hardly helped matters.

Holly on the other hand did not hate shopping in and of itself; it was the gawking and whispering that accompanied her sorties that she loathed.

With that in mind they finished their ice creams before taking hold of their things and heading back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Oh wow!” Hamish cried. They all turned back to see the problem: a large chunk of his mint ice cream was already melting into the cobbles. “Second time this week!”

)(

After dinner the quartet sat in the girls’ room. Holly and Ronnie lay on their beds as Heracles lounged in the armchair and Hamish the rug beside the fireplace.

Holly flicked through her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, hoping to attempt some of the moves detailed in its strategy section. Heracles had started reading the year’s books and Hamish had charmed a slinky to move about the room, he followed its progress as it tried to climb up to the window. Ginny sat on the window sill listening to the conversation.

“Won’t you get a warning for that?” Ronnie asked him from where she was reading the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly.

“Nope.” Hamish grinned. “There’s a wee bit too much background magic around Diagon Alley fer the Ministry to pick up one underage wizard like me.”

“Hmmph,” she grunted.

Heracles cleared his throat, his eyes remaining on the page he was reading. “That said you shouldn’t be using magic outside of school, rules are there for a reason.”

“Oh aye, fer breakin’.” Hamish snickered.

Holly smiled, distracted by the discussion. “It’s alright if he knows what he’s doing though?”

“That’s not the point,” Heracles stated. “The law says we can’t use magic outside school until we’re seventeen so we shouldn’t.”

“Heracles, thenk about why the law was passed, tae stop underage wizards tryen’ spells they didnae know that might injure or kill someone.” Hamish countered.

“Besides, there are so many loopholes in that act,” Ronnie piped up. “the one that lets you practice for homework, in case of extreme danger, loads.”

“Well I suppose what Hamish is doing is innocent enough...” Heracles answered tentatively.

“So, can ye explain why ye’ve picked Muggle Studies again?” Hamish asked snidely.

“For the last time Hamish, I think it’ll be interesting to see how wizards view them.”

“But you grew up with them, and Dad doesn’t stop going on about them,” Ronnie pointed out.

“And you’ve picked all the other electives this year too. Can you explain how you’re going to get any rest?” Holly asked, prompting a snigger from Ronnie. Heracles ignored them.

“I feel like this is interrogation time for Heracles,” Hamish said as the slinky tangled itself around Heracles’ chair leg. “About Crookshanks...”

“Yes?”

“It’s either a very big cat or a small tiger,” Holly said simply.

They all burst out laughing.

“We should probably get to bed, early start ahead of us.” Heracles brought the party to a halt.

“Fine,” Hamish groaned. “Can I leave the slinky here?”

“Sure.” Holly replied rather more quickly than she’d hoped.

Once the boys had left, Holly and Ronnie began changing into their pyjamas.

“Actually Ronnie, do you want a drink?” Holly asked.

“Yeah that’d be great.” The reply came from under the duvet.

“Thanks Holly,” said Ginny from her own bed.

Shaking her head, she stepped out into the corridor outside. Neon light pooled from the windows facing the Muggle street. Pulling her dressing gown around her, Holly walked softly down the corridor, occasionally pausing to listen to the rooms’ occupants. Hamish and Heracles were whispering as Percy tried to enforce curfew to no effect, snores vibrated the twins’ room.

On the return journey, clutching three glasses Holly passed Mr and Mrs Weasleys’ room. She was about to carry on but heard frantic whispering. She hesitated, not wishing for them to discover her.

“...makes no sense not to tell her,” Mr Weasley was saying. “I’ve told Fudge but he’s adamant she should be kept in the dark.”

“The truth would terrify her!” A second voice Holly recognised as Mrs Weasley’s said shrilly. “She’s better off not knowing. You don’t want to send her off to school with that hanging over her head.”

“I don’t what to scare her, but you know what they’re like,” he retorted. “They’ve been in the Forbidden Forest for Merlin’s sake! Holly can’t do that this year.”

“Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, when Fudge visited her she kept saying “He’s at Hogwarts, he’s at Hogwarts”, but she broke out of Azkaban! And I don’t care what Fudge says, we’re no closer to catching her than inventing self-flying brooms! The only sure thing we know is that she’s after-”

“But Holly’ll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts!”

“We thought Azkaban was safe and look what happened. If she gets into Hogwarts...When You-Know-Who died Black lost everything, you can bet she wants revenge for what happened. Probably thinks killing Holly will bring him back. Not to mention the twelve years she’s had to plan this out.”

“But Albus has got Azkaban’s guards stationed at each entrance.”

“You know how I feel about those things Molly. And besides, Black slipped past them before, what’s to say she won’t do it again?”

“Look Arthur, I know you and Dumbledore aren’t happy about it, but surely if they’re there to catch Black?”

“I know dear, I hate to say it but right now we have to join forces with the Dementors as much as I hate it.”

Holly heard chairs move and slowly tiptoed back up the stairs before Mrs Weasley poked her head out of the door.

When Holly got back, both Ronnie and Ginny were fast asleep. She placed their water next to them and slid into her own bed.

She lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, pondering what she had overheard. This Sirius Black had a grudge and wanted to kill her. That much she was certain. But Holly couldn’t help agree with Mrs Weasley; surely the safest place on earth was Hogwarts? Then again, Hogwarts could be pretty dangerous if you weren’t careful. To be quite honest Holly was more bothered that any Hogsmeade trips were cancelled as far as she was concerned. Her every move was liable to be watched so any chance of sneaking out would be next to nothing.

She could look after herself. She scowled at the ceiling, which stuck its tongue out back.

“I won’t be murdered.” Holly said out loud.

“Of course not dear,” the mirror replied sleepily.


	2. The train ride-Hamish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One down, 4 to go! I just sat my first external exam of the year. Thankfully I was wearing my lucky pair of socks, though it didn't prevent the intense need to use the loo after an hour in my chair. I have to hand it to my bladder, it really can have the worst timing. 
> 
> In other news I have 3 weeks until my next exam, time enough for revision and to finish chapter 7.

**Hamish**

Mr Weasley woke them with a knock on the door.

“Time to get up boys.”

Hamish yawned from where he lay. “Was it this hard last year?” he asked no one in particular.

“I can’t remember to be frank, but it’s entirely possible.” Heracles replied.

Trudging down to breakfast, they heard Priscilla’s raised voice telling Ronnie it was her fault that Penelope’s photo had tea spilled over it. Mr Weasley was reading the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow, a copy of Le Monde Magique next to him. Sitting down opposite the girls, Holly leaned over to them.

“I’ve got to tell you guys something,” Ronnie was still fuming over her reprimand from Priscilla. “It’s about-”

But before Holly could get started on the topic, Fred and George began congratualting Ronnie on smudging Pricilla’s picture, and the subject was dropped in favour of them telling the quartet how she was now hiding Penelope under the frame to disguise her ruined nose.

“What is it?” Hamish asked Holly as he sprinkled some sugar on his porridge.

“Later, I’ll tell you later.”

Hamish shrugged, for the time being his porridge was a more pressing matter. After a quick breakfast and Heracles checking their luggage thrice, Hamish lugged his trunk down the stairs to rest with the others. Mr Weasley stood outside, waiting for the Ministry cars. Heracles was comforting Crookshanks, telling him he’d let him out on the train.

“No you won’t,” Ronnie scowled. “What about Scabbers?!” She pointed at the lump resting in the chest pocket of her oversized brown jacket.

“They’re here.” Mr Weasley popped his head inside.

Priscilla immediately took charge. “Right, Ronnie, Heracles, Holly and Hamish you take your trunks, Fred, George, you can help me taking the rest of the things.”

The twins stood straight and saluted her. “Yes ma’am, right away ma’am!” they barked in unison.

Hamish grabbed his own trunk once again as Mrs Weasley bustled into the foyer and praised Priscilla for her delegation.

“I just wish you two would follow her example,” she scolded Fred and George as they struggled with Hedwig and their own trunks.

“We know, mother.” Fred began.

“We really should know better.”

“Which is why we’re endeavouring.”

“-To follow the Lady Priscilla’s.”

“Fantastic-example.”

“Some day- we will become-the greatest-delegators.”

“The world has ever seen.”

From the looks on Priscilla’s face, she could not be smugger about it, prompting Hamish to snigger quietly.

)(

It seemed all the compartments were taken when Heracles found one with no one but a boy their age with glasses and a sleeping man.

“Might as well, everywhere else is full,” he said.

They placed their trunks on the racks above their seats and sat down. Sitting next to the sleeping figure, Hamish noted the book the bespectacled boy read: _The Colour of Magic._

“I need to tell you guys something.” Holly interrupted his thoughts. “It’s private.”

The boy pulled out some old headphones and took out a cassette player. Hamish gave him a grateful glance.  

“C’mon Ginny, go find your friends,” Ronnie told her sister. She grumpily complied.

“What is et Holly?” he asked her, it was certainly related to what she had wanted to tell them this morning.

“Ok, last night when I went to get me and Ronnie-”

“Here Crookshanks.” Heracles interrupted, causing Hamish to roll his eyes as the bottlebrush-tailed cat was picked up and put back on Heracles’s lap.

“A drink,” she continued. “I passed by Mr and Mrs Weasleys’ door. They were talking about Black. Apparently he was a Death Eater!” Hamish sat up at that. “All I know is that the night Voldemort died he lost everything. And now that he’s broken out he’s after me!”

“Oh Holly, that’s not good,” Heracles said, brow furrowed. “We have to be really careful.”

“But why would Black be after ye?” Hamish asked, it didn’t make sense.

“Who knows, maybe he thinks my death would bring him back.”

“Either way,” Hamish reminded them. “Azkaban does stuff tae peoples’ heads.”

The conversation suddenly veered to Crookshanks as Heracles undid the buckles on his basket.

“No Heracles, not with Scabbers here!” Ronnie groaned.

But it was too late and Crookshanks leapt onto her lap. Scabbers trembled from within Ronnie’s pocket.

“Gerrof!” she said as the pushed Crookshanks back onto the floor, a hole tearing in her dress from where one of his claws caught.

“More importantly though, you know what this means,” Ronnie said ominously. “Hogsmeade’s gonna miss out on Holly”

Hamish frowned. “Aye, with Black on thae loose no way will McGonagall let you out, Holly.”

“But surely-if we came with you-Black wouldn’t dare go for you with us around you,” Ronnie protested.

“Ronnie, Black killed as street full of people, she isn’t going to hesitate attacking Holly even with us there,” Heracles reasoned.

“And our incredibly advanced magic,” Hamish added.

“Yeah, guess you guy’ll have to tell me all about it., Holly sighed.

“Oh aye, ye’ll miss Zonko’s.”

“And Honeydukes.” Ronnie gave him a glance, they were thinking on the same page it seemed.

“Oh and the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted building in Britain!” Heracles said excitedly, entirely missing the point.

“They’ve got so many jokes in there!”

“And the sherbets that make you hover as you suck them.”

“I think it was the site of a fairly important battle during the goblin rebellions, I’ll check it tonight.”

“Did I mention the brooms that turn into chesterfield sofas when you try to ride them?!”

“Ooo-don’t forget the strawberry spaghetti!”

“Think about it, the only completely magical settlement in Britain.”

Hamish was about to mention how the chesterfield sofas would occasionally create infinite improbability fields and you could chase after them through various realities and onto Lords Cricket   Ground when Holly yelled.

“Ok I get it!”

“Holly are you alright?” Heracles asked her, hurt and confusion written across his face. “Was it something I said?”

“You know, Heracles,” Ronnie said in amusement. “For someone so clever you can be really slow on the uptake.”

The boy in the corner, who had up to that point been reading, sniggered. He glanced up to find the quartet staring at him.

“Sorry, couldn’t help but eavesdrop,” he said sheepishly. “My name’s Iolo.” Aside his battered copy of the Colour of Magic, Iolo wore a pair of grey cargo trousers, an orange fleece and a green raincoat, topped off with a sturdy-looking pair of hiking boots.

“Afternoon, I am Heracles,” the latter said quickly. “Where are you from? If that’s not too rude a question.”

“I’m Welsh originally, but Father was the ambassador to China so I grew up in Shanghai,” he replied.

“But isn’t the government in Beijing?” Heracles asked.

“The Muggle one yes, but the Magical Bureau of Sino Affairs is based in Shanghai, they’re not too keen on the smog.”

“I’m Ronnie by the way!” she interrupted.

“Hamish.” He grinned, rolling his eyes at Ronnie’s impatience.

“And I’m Holly.”

Iolo’s eyes shot up to meet Holly’s forehead. “You don’t happen to know a Holly Potter do you?”

“Weeell...” Holly began, before simply parting her fringe to reveal the jagged scar.

“I suppose the only person tae survive the Killing Curse wood be werld famous,” Hamish remarked, prompting Iolo’s cheeks to darken slightly.

“So are you joining us in Hogwarts?” asked Heracles, bemused.

“That’s right, I was in the third year equivalent in the international school I was sent to.”

“Cool.” Ronnie nodded. “Do you know which house you might end up in?”

“Not really,” he replied “my dad didn’t really tell me much about his time at Hogwarts-too busy with his diplomatic duties.” Iolo’s voice was lowered as he ended the sentence.

“Is he still in China?” Holly inquired. “Shame he couldn’t tell you.”

Iolo was still for a moment, then his shoulders slumped. “And now he never will.”

Realising the significance, Hamish moved to sit next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, you couldn’t have known” he mumbled.

“My condolences, losing someone like that is hard,” Heracles said soothingly.

“Yeah, sorry,” said Holly. “I don’t blame you if you feel terrible.”

“Don’t worry about it mate, you seem cool,” Ronnie said bracingly, to an audience of glares. “What? I mean look how Holly turned out!”

Hamish chuckled. “Aye, if it’s any consolation, I reckon ‘e’d be pretty proud of ye, comin’ to Hogwarts on ye own.”

Iolo blushed at the compliment. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Hamish replied.

)(

The rain thickened as the train sped north, darkness slowly descending over landscape that grew wilder each passing second. The lamps flickered to life in each carriage. The rain rattled the windows, the wind howled and Professor Lupin slept on.

At one point Malfoy and her cronies had attempted to start a fight, but his presence had quickly disabused them of that idea.

 “We must be getting close,” said Ronnie, gazing out of the window.

As if the train had been waiting for her to say such a thing, the carriage lurched and Hamish felt them slowing. Pistons slowed and brakes squealed before a soft jolt brought them to a stop.

“We can’t be there yet,” Hercales pointed out to Ronnie.

Holly, closest to the door stuck her head out.

“Anything?” Hamish asked.

“You mean apart from everyone else not knowing what’s going on?” she replied. And then the lights went out.

“Ouch Ronnie, my foot!” Heracles cried.

“Sorry!”

Holly slumped down next to him. “Maybe we’ve broken down.”

“Maybe.” Hamish shrugged.

“Guys,” Iolo called. “I can see movement out there.”

Hamish glanced outside and stopped. Through sheets of rain things were indeed moving. Quite what they were was another question, but they seemed to swoop and dive, getting larger and thus closer.

A grunt alerted them that Professor Lupin had woken up.

Just as he was about to speak, the compartment door slid open and several figures tumbled in.

“Ow!” cried Ronnie. “What are you doing here Gin?”

“Looking for Holly.” Her voice came from the floor. “Help me up.”

A hiss from Crookshanks followed by a yelp introduced Neville.

“Hey Nev, any idea what’s gow-ing on?” Hamish asked as he lifted him to sit beside himself and Iolo.

“Hello Hamish, not a clue.”he replied.

“Quiet!” Professor Lupin hissed. “I’m going to speak with the driver, you should all stay put.” They scuffled to let him through. But before he could get out the door slid open once more.

Hamish’s breath caught in his throat, it was a Dementor. It was lit by the fire dancing in Professor Lupin’s hand. Its own hand clutched the doorknob; it looked wet, clammy and as if it had decomposed in water. And then it withdrew into the folds of its cloak. A rattle accompanied a slow breath, as if it was trying to suck all the air of the carriage in.

But with that breath, a deep cold settled over Hamish. It penetrated his chest, into his heart. Glancing at Holly, Hamish saw her stiffen, her eyes glazing over before she slumped unconscious onto Ginny’s shoulder. Ron and Heracles shivered, their expression reading sadness whilst Neville sat crying in the corner. It was then that Hamish heard it, a mad cry of fury, and the wet sound of blood hitting tarmac. He could hear his mother cry.

_“Gaer no!”_

“He is not here.” Professor Lupin was speaking to the Dementor, trying to reason with it. “Move on, Black is not here.”

Inside Hamish’s mind, the scene played out. He could see the blood staining his teddy, hear his mother’s sobs.

Professor Lupin pulled his wand out and muttered and incantation. With it, a white light blasted from the tip and struck the Dementor. Professor Lupin pushed the Dementor away, using the spell a few times to get it out of the doorway before he himself followed it out.

And with that, the cold passed, though Hamish still gave a shiver at the memory he had been forced to replay.

“Oh Merlin, Holly!” Ginny cried, broken from her own melancholic reverie.

Holly was slumped on her shoulder, and Ginny moved so she could lie on the seat. They crowded around Holly, concern spilling out from their eyes.

“She’s breathing!” Heracles said with relief. Ronnie snorted.

“Don’t worry about her physically, Heracles,” Hamish explained as he shot Ronnie a reproachful look. “Dementors don’t affect ye health, just ye mind.”

Professor Lupin returned as the pistons began pumping once more and the lamps flickered back to life.

“Here you go.” He was holding a slab of chocolate. “This should remedy you some way. Hamish, take two.”

Heracles glanced at him quizzically, but Hamish avoided his eye, taking double the rest’s amount. Swallowing his second piece, he saw Holly coming round, groaning slightly.

Ginny quickly moved to face her. “Holly, Holly are you alright?!”

“F-fine,” she replied.

Professor Lupin reached over to hand her the rest of the chocolate. “Here, eat this, it will help.”

Reluctantly, Holly took it.

“You had us worried, Holly,” Neville said.

“Yeah,” Ronnie added. “I thought you were having a fit or something.”

“W-what h-happen-ed?” she asked.

“It was a Dementor,” answered Professor Lupin. “One of the guards of Azkaban, searching the train for signs of Sirius Black. If you’ll excuse me, I should check that the Prefects are reassuring everybody.” But before he slipped out of the compartment he glanced at Holly. “Eat, it will do you good.”

“A-and did any-one here...pass out or anything?” Holly asked once he had gone.

“Nah, felt weird though, like I’d never be cheerful again.” Ronnie replied. The others shook their heads.

Hamish looked at Iolo, who smiled. He had been the only one to have noticed Hamish’s shaking.

“So you d-didn’t h-ere anyone screaming?” she asked.

“There was no one screaming Holly, none of us heard anything.” Heracles said quickly.

How wrong he could be, Hamish thought to himself.


	3. Term begins-Ronnie

**Ronnie**

The trip to the castle was uneventful, the odd jolt coming whenever a wheel slipped into a puddle. Rain lashed down on the carriages and Ronnie was thankful she wasn’t a first year, crossing the lake in one of those small boats seemed about as enjoyable as volunteering for drowning.

At last the carriage drew to a halt. Climbing out, Ronnie heard Malfoy’s voice crow.

“So Potter, heard you fainted.”

Ronnie was preparing herself to give Malfoy a taste of her fist when Professor Lupin’s calm voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Is there a problem here?”

Malfoy looked him up and down, taking in the battered suitcase, shabby clothes and Professor Lupin’s unkempt face. “Oh-er no- _Professor_ ” She shared a smirk with Crabbe and Goyle before hurrying into the castle.

“C’mon, let’s get out of the rain,” Ronnie said gruffly, she was in no mood to be drenched, no matter the weather’s wishes. They rushed to join the throng piling through the double oak doors into the entrance beyond. Candles lit the marble staircase, and Ronnie was about to start the ascent, when Professor McGonagall hurried to them.

“Potter, Granger, I’d like to see you both,” she said with a tone that brooked no argument. “No need to look worried,” Ronnie’s face had clearly betrayed her feeling of foreboding. “I just want a chat in my office. Weasley, Williams, you can carry on. Though Williams, if you could report to Madam Pomfrey after the feast it would save me the trouble.”

Ronnie stared after them as they were ushered away.

“We should go, c’mon Ronnie,” Hamish said reassuringly.

Reaching their usual spot, the pair sat down, saving seats for both Holly and Heracles.

“Glad I’m not a first year today.” Ronnie stated as Professor Flitwick led the firsts years between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. “Some of them look like they’ve fallen into the lake.”

“Aye,” Hamish snorted. “That they do.”

The mass of nervous eleven year olds stopped as Professor Flitwick climbed the steps up to the stool where the Sorting Hat was perched.  A rip in the brim opened, and Ronnie heard a few first years gasp.

After the Hat had finished its song, Professor Flitwick picked it up. “When I call your name,” he said in his squeaky voice. “you will step up and sit on the stool. I shall be placing the Sorting Hat on your head, it will tell you in which house you belong. "

The first years murmured worriedly at that, afraid to be separated from their friends. Ronnie rolled her eyes.

“Ashwith, Gemma.” A small girl leapt up the steps, her hair a mass of tight black curls bouncing with her.

“Hufflepuff!” the Hat cried and she leapt off the stool, rushing to the Hufflepuff table.

Professor Flitwick went through the list, each first year either nervous or excited.

Ronnie felt Hamish’s elbow. “What?” she mouthed.

Iolo was sitting on the stool; of all those waiting to be sorted, he was the most obvious, being at least a foot taller than those around him. The Sorting Hat seemed to be taking its time.

“Hope he gets into Gryffindor,” Hamish said quietly.

“Ravenclaw!” prompted a sigh from Hamish as Iolo went to join his new housemates at the table.

A “Creevey, Dennis” hopped over to the Gryffindor table after Iolo, telling Colin Creevey he’d fallen into the lake.

“That’s amazing!” his brother cried.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it liked it, I got thrown back into the boat!” he said ecstatically.

“Dennis you met the giant squid!!” Colin grinned.

“Wow!” he said breathily, as if a near-drowning was the best thing that could possibly happen.

Holly and Heracles returned after the Sorting.

“Oh, we missed it,” Heracles said with disappointment as he sat next to her.

“So what was all that about?” Ronnie asked Holly, but before she could begin Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and silence fell upon them.

Despite his age, the headmaster gave off an air of energy, something that immediately endeared him to the students. Said to be the greatest wizard of the age, Ronnie couldn’t help but feel calm as he began to speak.

“To all those who join us this year, welcome; to those who aren’t new, welcome back. I trust you all to have enjoyed your summer. Before you all become befuddled with our excellent feast, I have a few words of more serious note.” The candlelight glinted off his silver beard.

“As you are by now no doubt aware, Hogwarts is playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban. They are stationed at every entrance and exit of the grounds to protect you all from the escaped prisoner Sirius Black. And, though they are here for your protection, I would advise against any attempts to leave the grounds without permission. Even under an invisibility cloaks, Dementors will find you. Be warned, a Dementor will not differentiate between those they seek, and those who get in their way.

“It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving, I am afraid pleas for mercy will not be of much use.” Dumbledore’s speech this year was certainly less cheerful than usual. “I am thus trusting the Head Boy and Girl,” Priscilla sat up straighter at this. “to help staff to ensure your safety.

“On a happier note,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling once more. “I am pleased to announce two new teachers will be joining us this year. Professor Lupin has kindly accepted my offer of the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts; and Professor Grubbly-Plank has decided to retire in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately the post for Care of Magical Creatures is being filled by our very own Rubeus Hagrid!”

Ronnie was a little taken aback by the last appointment, but the continuation of Holly’s clapping prompted her to smile. At least Snape hadn’t got his wish yet.

Speaking of, Ronnie thought to herself. “Look at Snape!” she hissed in Holly’s ear. His expression was one of loathing, rather than just the hatred they were used to.

“Maybe someone poured butober pus into his drink,” Holly suggested.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait for now, I’m so excited about starting electives this year!” Heracles interrupted their musing.

“Now let that be the last time ye say that,” Hamish said meaningfully as he speared a chicken leg.

Ronnie hadn’t even realised food was on the table, and she quickly made up for lost time, scooping and spearing anything near her. Despite her misgivings, primarily over the book he had sent Holly and put on the book list, Ronnie was happy Hagrid was a teacher. He had failed to get any qualifications due to being expelled in his third year, and it had only been last year that they had cleared his name.

Eventually, the last morsels of trifle and rice pudding faded away with their bowls. Dumbledore gave the word for all to go to bed. The quartet rushed to congratulate Hagrid before he left.

“Well done Hagrid!” Heracles smiled.

“Yeah, congratulations mate!” Ronnie added.

“I’m so happy I took Care of Magical Creatures now!” Hamish was practically jumping.

“All down to you lot,” Hagrid said, a beam visible under his beard. “Great man Dumbledore...great man!”

Holly merely hugged him happily. Ronnie followed suit, and they were soon all wrapping their arms around what they could of him, Hagrid laughing.

As they left Hagrid called. “Holly, wha’s tha’ in yer hair?”

“Oh this,” she gestured to the green streak she had had dyed over summer. “Heracles says there’s nothing in the school rule that explicitly mentions hair, I’m covered.”

“Well he’d would know.” Hagrid waved them off.

On reaching the common room, Ronnie was too tired to sit and talk. She walked up the stairs to the dormitory she shared with others in their year.

It seemed that as soon as her head hit the pillow it was time to get up.

On reaching the Great Hall for breakfast, Ronnie heard Malfoy telling some kind of story to his fellow Slytherins, something that had them guffawing.

“Ignore them,” she muttered to Holly, whom she had felt tense up when she had seen them. She guided her with Heracles to sit next to the twins helping themselves to toast. “Mornin’,” she greeted them.

“And how are we all,” one began.

“On this fine morn?” the other finished.

“Alright,” Holly grunted back.

Fred was taken aback. “What’s up with you Holly? I know it’s the first day of school but...”

“Malfoy.” Ronnie answered. “She’s making up some story about Holly.”

“That git,” George remarked as Malfoy made another pass, mock-fainting to her audience’s delight. “She wasn’t like that on the train when she rushed into our compartment.”

“Indeed,” Fred added. “Looked like she’d wet herself.” Holly snorted.

“That said I didn’t like our experience,” Heracles commented dryly. “My insides were freezing.”

“But you didn’t pass out did you?” Holly said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it Holly,” Ronnie said reassuringly. “Dad once had to visit Azkaban and he came back saying it was the worst place he’d ever been to.”

“Didn’t even try to eat anything for an hour or so.” The twins smiled grimly.

“Heracles where’s Hamish?” Holly asked, their fourth member had been lost on the way to breakfast.

“You know, I’ve no idea,” he replied.

“Oh, before we leave to be late,” Fred interrupted.

“Here are the third-year  timetables.” George passed them the parchments.

As the pair left, Hamish joined them, quickly grabbing a bowl and spooning himself some porridge.

“Mornin’ aye.” He smiled. “I’ve jus’ been talking to Iolo, he’s makin’ friends alright. Thought I’d check up on him.”

“And how is he?” Heracles asked.

“Well enough, he’s like we were back in our first year.”

“So awed and excited?” Holly asked wryly.

“Aye. Though perhaps a wee bit more critical when it comes down to it,” Hamish said, porridge halfway to his mouth.

“Until he meets Malfoy that is,” Ronnie said glumly.

“Wha’s she done?”

“Telling everyone about how Holly passed out on the train last night.”

“Well jus’ wait ‘til Quidditch, then we’ll see her face. Gryffindor vs Slytherin first.” Hamish grinned.

“Yeah, can’t wait to see her knocked down a peg,” Ronnie nodded.

“Right, we’d best be off Hamish, Ancient Runes first,” Heracles said, examining her timetable. “So many new subjects we’re starting today.”

“Heracles, you’re down for ten subjects, they’ve messed up your timetable, there’s no way you can fit that many a day,” Ronnie cried, seeing through the parchment.

“Oh don’t worry, it’ll work out. Come on Hamish.” Heracles snatched up his and Hamish bags and led the poor boy out of the Hall, still eating his porridge.

“Mental, that’s what he is.” Ronnie muttered through a mouthful of bacon.

Holly sighed. “We should probably go too, gonna need a head-start to find Divination.”

Ronnie, about to serve herself a fourth helping, was about to protest, but quickly saw the sense in the argument. Together they made their way out of the Hall, ignoring Malfoy’s impression of Holly.

Five minutes later and they were lost.

“Bloody hell! How do Fred and George do it?” Ronnie cried. “Leave right at the bell and still manage to stroll in only a minute late.

“Maybe it’s this way?” Holly pointed south.

“No, we need to the North Tower, and you can see the lake from here.”

They were starting to despair when a voice cried out. “Aha! What villains come to trespass on my lands! Draw you knaves and I shall you the true steel of Camelot!” A short, fat knight was bouncing up and down in his painting. He drew a particularly long sword and began to brandish it, only to topple backwards as he brought it over his head, the sword sticking into his horse’s rump.

“And you are...?” Holly asked, eyebrows raised.

“Don-oh, I am terribly sorry gracious lady-ladies I should say given your beautiful companion.” He said, realising his mistake as his horse reared and leapt out of frame, running down the hallway’s tapestry.

Ronnie flushed. “Never mind that. We need to get to the North Tower, can you show us a shortcut?”

“Another pair of fair damsels in distress looking for aid. A worthy quest indeed or my name isn’t Sir Cadogan the Gallant!” he cried. “Follow me, you’ll forgive me for we must walk, my trusty steed, Tonto having been robbed of me.”

With that he clanked off, and Ronnie and Holly struggled to keep up with him. Occasionally they would see him running through a painting, disturbing its occupants with cries of “”Out of the way good sirs, I am on a quest!” or “Stand aside, I have a commission of the utmost grace!”.

At times he would call to them to “be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come.”

Puffing loudly, Ronnie and Holly emerged at the top of spiral tower, the quest at an end. Sir Cadogan stood beside in another painting, ignoring the protests of a flock of harpies.

“Farewell! Fare thee well sweet ladies, should you ever find yourself in distress, my noble heart and steely sinew is every-ready to come to your gracious aid!” And then he clanked back to his painting.

“Yeah-” Ronnie gasped, still having trouble overcoming his comment on her. “If we need a loony.”

The rest of the class, mostly girls, were waiting on the landing, looking expectantly at the trapdoor above.

“Enter, my dears.” The door opened and a silver ladder descended from it. “It is so good to finally meet you all in the flesh.”

Ronnie gave Holly a glance, this was going to be a strange class. Being the last up the ladder she saw, or more likely guessed considering the dim crimson light that filled the room, that most of the seats in this near-perfect replica of a tea room were taken.

They found seats next to Neville and Seamus.

“Welcome, welcome children, I am Professor Trelawney.” A large insect-wait, a woman draped in a spangly shawl and wearing glasses that magnified her eyes to several times their normal size, stepped from out of the shadows. “I am glad that I foresaw the need to expand my classroom before I even saw who would be joining me to explore, the beyond!” Her soft, misty voice took a dramatic edge to it with those two words. Sadly the effect was ruined when she bumped into an armchair, prompting sniggering from Ronnie and her table.

“What’s she on about?” Holly whispered. “The class isn’t even that big.”

She was right, when Ronnie looked behind them, only half of the tables were occupied.

“So, you have decided to study the noble art, of Divination.” Professor Trelawney brought her attention back to the front. “I can tell you now that however good you may be with all the flashy magic in the hustle and bustle of the lower school which I do avoid- it clouds my Inner Eye- there will be very little I can teach you if you do not have, the Sight!” A china cup fell to the rug ash Trelawney knocked into the table. “Books can only take you so far...”

Ronnie grinned at that, finally a subject where she might be better than Heracles.

“You boy!” Neville jumped off his pouffe. “Is your grandmother quite well?”

Neville stuttered, Holly helping back onto his seat. “I-I-I th-think s-so.”

“Oooo, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She returned back to the class. “This term we shall cover the basics of Divination, tea-leaves and palmistry. And boy,” She said to Lance Brown. “beware a red-headed witch.” Lance shuffled his chair away from Ronnie and Holly, the only red-headed witches in their year. “And after November we shall move on to fire-reading, that is if the bout of flu spares us. In March I will lose my voice. But the summer term shall see us through to using crystal balls.”

Ronnie noticed that as she was speaking the china cups on their tables filled themselves with tea.

“When you have finished your tea-girl,” Parvati stiffened. “That thing you are dreading will come to pass in October- I want you to take the cup of your partner sitting opposite you.”

After draining her cup with a few tea leaves to boot, Ronnie swapped hers with Hollie’s.

“Right,” she said to herself, paging through the section on tea leaves in their book. “You’ve got a wonky cross, trials apparently, but a sun, so-wait no, more like a bowler hat...maybe you’ll work for Fudge.”

“Ronnie, I’ve got to come clean with you.” Ronnie held her breath.

“Well, what can you see?!” she asked when Holly said nothing.

“A load of soggy brown stuff.”

The fumes and heat were making Ronnie feel groggy.

“Let me see that.” Ronnie leapt out of her skin and ran for the hills, or would have were she not lying on her back having fallen of her own seat. Neville gave her a hand as Professor Trelawney had a minor heart attack. “My dear,” she said to Holly. “You have the Grim!”

“The Grim?” Holly asked, her voice spelling I-bet-this-is-another-great-trial.

“It’s supposed to be an omen of death.” Heracles explained.

Ronnie nearly leapt out of her skin. “Where did you come from?!” She whispered hoarsely, to which Heracles smiled mysteriously. He sat on a pouffe beside Neville, looking as if he had been there all the time, though Neville’s expression belied that.  

“I am so sorry my dear.” Professor Trelawney said softly.

In Transfiguration, Ronnie had better luck turning her toad into a tea cosy, albeit a very moist, olive green cosy whose remaining amphibian limbs flailed about in the air. Thanks to the cash prize her father had won that summer, she had bought a wand of her own. Talk of visiting Bill, her older brother who worked for Gringotts, in Egypt had been postponed for the time being.

But Holly didn’t look so happy, even if her cosy lacked limbs. It croaked on occasion.

“Professor?” Heracles asked, already moving on from toads to turning a parakeet into a book on birds.

“Yes Mister Granger?” replied Professor McGonagall, looking up from her marking.

“I wanted to ask you about something that occurred in Divination this morning. Professor Trelawney said something about “The Grim”; I was hoping you could enlighten me, the textbook doesn’t go into much detail.”

Professor McGonagall sighed, putting down her quill. “I would take it, Mister Granger, that Professor Trelawney was speaking in relation to Miss Potter?”

“Yes Professor,” said Holly, an awkward half-smile on her face. “We were deciphering tea leaves. And my cup apparently showed the grim.”

The class had fallen silent, many who had not been in Divination wanted to hear what had happened.

“Miss Potter, in her tenure here at Hogwarts, Professor Trelawney ha predicted the unfortunate demise of each of her students in her class. As of yet, all are leading happy, successful lives.” The disdain for her colleague was plain in Professor McGonagall’s voice. “I wouldn’t concern yourself with such trivial matters.”

Ronnie heard Parvati and Lance whisper urgently amongst themselves, probably shocked at Professor McGonagall’s contempt for Divination. Hamish sighed, he had come late and been forced to sit next to them.

“I suggest you return to your work, there will be time for discussion later.” Professor McGonagall said in a tone that brooked no lenience.

As they were packing up for lunch, Professor McGonagall came up to Holly. “Potter, if you are worried at all, do not hesitate to talk to me about. The same goes for all four of you, I hope this year will prove less eventful.” Ronnie caught the impression she was humouring herself, the corners of her mouth had a slight upward tilt.

After lunch came Care of Magical Creatures, or CMC as Hamish had started to call it. He led the four as they trooped down to Hagrid’s hut.

Coming to a stop outside it, they finally heard the Slytherins’ snide comments.

“Why do we always end up sharing classes with them?” Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

“Beats me.” Said Holly. “I wonder if they’re ever cheerful about anything, or is everything about outmanoeuvring your peers?”

Hagrid stepped out of his hut. “Afternoon, class. Is everyone ‘ere?” A few grunts of assent greeted him. “Righ’, follow me, got a real treat fer yer firs’ lesson!” he said, clapping his hands together in delight.

He began striding for the woods of the Forbidden Forest. Hamish, ever-eager for adventure, followed, Ronnie, Heracles and Holly behind him. With that that rest of the class trooped into the trees.

They came to a stop by a clearing, a few saplings growing beside a stream.

“Ta-dah!” Hagrid cried.

Ronnie stopped in her tracks. In the clearing were four large eagles, only their rear half was occupied by that of a horse. They stood on four legs, the rear two those of horses, which would clop as they creatures viewed their visitors. The front half of the beasts looked like giant eagles, and they stood on their front, avian legs like their rear pair.

“Hagrid,” asked Holly. “What are those?”

“These are hippogriffs,” he replied proudly. “I’ve got ‘em on loan from their reserve in Russia. Righ’ before we start pettin’ and cooin’ over ‘em,” Hagrid didn’t seem to notice the apprehensive look from the class. “there’s a few thin’s you should know. Hippogriffs are very proud animals, you do not wanna upset a hippogriff, migh’ be the las’ thing you ever do.”

Hamish’s hand rose in the air.

“Yes?” Hagrid seemed pleased to be getting questions so early.

“Does that mean you won’t be demonstrating what happens if you upset them?”

The class tittered nervously.

“Nope, sorry to disappoint yeh Hamish.” Hagrid laughed.

“Ok, who wants to say ‘ello?” he asked more seriously. The class took a step back, all but Holly, whose spatial awareness had left her in a flight of I-hope-it’s-not-me. “Oh well done Holly, thank you!”

Ronnie gave her a shove to get her moving.

“We’ll do this with Buckbeak, he’s easiest. Now to approach a hippogriff yer need to bow.” Hagrid instructed. Holly bowed her head. “A little lower Holly, tha’s righ’. So jus’ walk up to him nice ‘n’ slow like tha’.”

The hippogriff in question was the largest, and therefore nicest. Which made no sense to Ronnie, which was hardly a surprise though. She shuddered at the memory of meeting Aragog. It seemed to glare at Holly as she approached.

A twig snapped and Buckbeak squawked loudly. Ronnie clutched the nearest thing to hand in fear for her friend. It was warm, and a hand. Following the arm it was attached to to the shoulder, Ronnie also realised it belonged to Heracles. Blushing profusely, she let it go.

I hope no one saw that, she thought to herself, Heracles probably thinks I was scared, that sounds right.

Ronnie returned from her self-reassuring to see that Buckbeak was bowing to Holly.

“See,” Hagrid was saying. “e’ likes you. You can go a pet him now.”

Holly moved to brush her hand over his plumage. Ronnie grinned at the face of pure “ _wow_ ” Holly threw over her shoulder.

“I’d say you can ride ‘im now,” Hagrid said enthusiastically.

Holly thought otherwise. “Er Hagrid, I-c-an I just not?!”

“Nonsense!” He picked her up by the waist and plopped her on the equally startled hippogriff. “Mind you don’t pull out any of his feathers, ‘e won’t thank you fer tha’!” And with a slap on Buckbeak’s buttock, Holly was away. Her pink face pinched in annoyance the last they saw of her for a while.

Ronnie realised with a jolt that she and Heracles had linked fingers again. They jumped to the side, his cheeks darkening.

After a while they heard whoops of joy, Holly was having fun. In time she descended, face flushed with excitement, red hair windswept behind her.

Hagrid clapped loudly. “Well done Holly, well done!”

He helped her off Buckbeak and she ran back to them.

“How was it?” Ronnie asked, slightly jealous she hadn’t volunteered now.

“Amazing!” Holly replied breathlessly.

It seemed Hagrid was about to get them organised so they could greet the hippogriffs, when Malfoy did something very stupid.

She swaggered up to Buckbeak. “Yeah, you’re not so tough are you? Filthy animal!”

And with that, Buckbeak reared, his forelegs kicking, claws flashing in the sunlight. Malfoy cowered, raising her arm in an effort to shield herself. Buckbeak’s talons ripped through her jumper and she fell to the floor.

“Whoa Buckbeak, whoa!” Hagrid yelled, rushing to place himself between Malfoy and the enraged hippogriff. “Buckbeak! Away yer silly creature!” He threw one of the polecats hanging from his shoulders.

Buckbeak cantered to catch it, leaving Hagrid standing over a stricken Malfoy.

“It’s killed me! I’m dead, I’m dead!” she cried tearfully.

“It’s jus’ a scratch!” Hagrid panicked.

“Hagrid, she needs to go to the infirmary!” Hamish shouted.

“I’m the teacher, I’ll do it!” He hefted Malfoy into his arms. “The rest o’ you, class dismissed!” And he thundered off through the trees.

“You and your bloody chicken!” Ronnie heard Malfoy cry.

)(

They had just started getting their books out for the lesson, when Professor Lupin called. “Books away, I thought we might start with something practical.”

A murmur of excitement greeted his words as the shuffling and scraping of books and quills being put back into bags proceeded.

“Take your things with you,” said Professor Lupin. He had moved to the door. “Follow me.”

They took the stairs two at a time to keep up with Professor Lupin. In a few moments they were lined outside the staffroom. Lupin pushed into the room, ushering Ronnie and her friends in with the rest of the class.

Professor Snape looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet from where he sat in an olive green armchair. He stood to leave.

“It’s alright Professor,” he sneered. “I have a test that needs marking. Though keep an eye on Longbottom, he can turn simple instructions into a deadly poison by accident, so I recommend you have him watch.”

“A pity, I had hoped to use Neville here to demonstrate,” Professor Lupin commented mildly.

Snape said nothing as he swept out of the room, cloak billowing like the wings of a bat.

Ronnie gave Neville a pat on the back. “Don’t listen to him, Nev,” she said gently. “You’re ten times the wizard the Slytherins’ll ever be.”

A wardrobe shook violently, returning the class’s attention to Professor Lupin, who now stood in front of it.

“Mr Filch wanted to move this wardrobe for cleaning earlier, but I persuaded him to leave it for the time being,” he said. “Now can anyone tell me what creature might be inside?”

“That’s a Boggart,” said Dean Thomas.

“Correct Mr Thomas.” Professor Lupin smiled. “And can anyone tell me what a Boggart looks like?”

“It could be anything.” Ronnie jumped; she swore Heracles had not been with them at the start of the class. “A Boggart takes the appearance of whatever frightens its target the most, which is why it is so terrifying.”

“A textbook definition.” Lupin nodded. Heracles blushed, Ronnie was certain that was what it was knowing him. “Now Neville here is going to help me show you how to deal with a Boggart.” Neville whimpered softly. “I want you all to repeat the incantation after me: _Riddikulus!”_

_“Riddikulus”_ They chanted back.

“But what really finishes a Boggart is laughter,” he explained. “It’s no use shouting riddikulus if you have no idea what wish to put behind the spell. You need to force the Boggart to take on a shape you find amusing.”

Easier said than done I’m guessing, Ronnie thought to herself.

“Now Neville, what frightens you most?”

“P-p-profess-or S-snape,” Neville said quietly.

“Hmm, frightens all,” Professor Lupin commented, earning a laugh from the class and a smile from Neville. “And I believe you live with your grandmother- don’t worry, it won’t turn into her. Can you picture her clothes for me?”

Neville’s face scrunched up. “She...carries a purple handbag-”

Professor Lupin stopped him. “We don’t need to hear it, if you can picture it, we will see it.” Neville nodded. “Wand at the ready. If the rest of you could take a step back to give Neville some room.” They shuffled backwards, not keen on missing the action.

Professor Lupin flicked his wand at the wardrobe, and out stepped Professor Snape.

Neville froze. Ronnie didn’t fancy being in his place either, if her fears were anything to go by this experience would probably do the same for her.

“Think, Neville, think!” Professor Lupin said, mouthing _Riddikulus._

_“Riddikulus!”_ shouted Neville, and suddenly Snape was wearing a set of vomit green robes, a purple handbag clutched to his side and with a stuffed vulture perched on his hat.

The class giggled loudly. Professor Lupin banished the Boggart back into the wardrobe.

“Right, form a line! Think of the thing that frightens you most, and how you might make it funny!” Professor Lupin’s call prompted much shuffling, kicking- primarily from the Slytherins- and the occasional shove. “Form a line!”

“Take its legs off, what about rollerblades?” Ronnie said to herself, picturing how to turn a giant spider into harmless amusement. Holly gave her a knowing look.

Parvati went first. A great cobra slithered out of the wardrobe towards her. But it soon turned into a simple Jack-in-the-Box.

Seamus’s banshee lost her voice, and Lance’s giant Venus Flytrap was turned into a pair of dentures.

In no time at all it was Ronnie’s turn. The dentures gave a wiggle, before sprouting eight hairy legs, mandibles and a set of glistening black eyes. Before long there was an Acromantula chittering before her.

Ronnie squirmed, it was just like the time in second year, when she and Holly had ventured into the Forbidden Forest, only to be captured by Aragog’s children.

_“Riddikulus!”_ And roller blades fit themselves to the spider’s legs, causing to lose balance, legs akimbo as it tried to get back up. Ronnie smiled at that and joined the group at the back, chattering about their turn.

It came to Holly’s turn, but before she could so much as step forward, Professor Lupin stood in front of a dancing pig. A yellow orb floated in front of him.

_“Riddikulus!”_ And it had turned into a burst balloon, which he banished back into the wardrobe.

“Aw!” they moaned.

“Sorry, sorry, can’t have too much of a good thing I’m afraid!” Professor Lupin lamented. “If you could all write a quick summary of a Boggart, its characteristics and how you would deal with one for next week that’d be great. Class dismissed.”

They trooped back to their dormitory, all in all Ronnie’s first day hadn’t been too bad. Though she couldn’t help wonder why Professor Lupin had stopped Holly from trying the Boggart.

“We should get started on the homework I suppose.” Heracles brought her back to earth.

So he and Hamish spent the evening transcribing runes, whilst she and Holly played some wizarding chess.

Yes, it was great to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, I'm fiddling with Holly's appearance! What will it be next?! Will she become the elven queen?! *gasp!*
> 
> Well no, firstly as part of alternative canon I'm writing, I consider it within my authority to alter appearances of character. I am not, repeat, not making Holly a completely OoC person; she will not for example, be a phoenix animagus or some other similarly ott bull. I loathe fanfics that give their protagonists massive advantages, often coupled with barely developed personalities. It is firstly simple wish-fulfilment on their part, I recognise that despite fanfics ostensibly being entertainment they are also intellectual property of a loose sort (not that of corporations and patents, more an imaginative kind). Secondly, they are immensely painful to read; treating their villains like incompetent idiots reduces any sense of drama they might bring to the plot. 
> 
> So before you start panicking, it is a minor detail driven by artistic reasoning of differentiating between Ronnie and Holly as they both have red hair.


	4. Yazmun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, it seems I have a pretty dark imagination. For the record this chapter is entirely skippable for the faint-hearted.

**Yazmun**

The children played quietly in the background as Yazmun sat dumbfounded before his father. They were sat around the dinner table, the sounds of his mother cooking the night’s mousaka drifted from outside. His feet were cold, the reed mat didn’t do much to insulate them from the stone floor in this part of the house. He envied his brother and sister, as they got to play in the living room, where the floor was just packed dirt and covered in rushes.

“But Fa! Everyone else is going!” he said pleadingly. His father was refusing to let him go with the rest of his school. “Headman Talit says it’ll be too dangerous for me to stay!”

“I’m not arguing about this, Yazmun,” his father said calmly. “You know I only agreed to let you go to that school to stop your mother crying. But to let you move away to England?! No, this has gone too far.”

“How many times do I have to tell you Fa?” he whined, his father could be very obstinate. “There’s a war that’s coming, just because you have no part in my world doesn’t mean they won’t kill you and Ma, and Rushin and Ibrahim!”

“This discussion is over.” His father replied with finality. “Go to your room, I don’t want to hear any more about your “war” tonight.”

Yazmun stormed to his room, crashing onto his bunk with a flop. His father just couldn’t understand that a wizarding war meant more than just two men firing sparks at each other. But it was tradition, his father had not moved away when the Israelis had attacked, his grandfather had ignored the Germans during the big war, and now Yazmun’s father was hardly about to leave land his family had been part of for generations for a war that didn’t even involve them.

Which was why Yazmun was so angry. Headman Talit had told them that he believed the war to be too dangerous for them to stay and be killed or used by one side or another. He had contacted several schools and magical governments in Europe and North America, places where the land was at peace. This idea, to keep the children away from the fighting during their schooling in the hopes that the war would abate and they could return, had only been taken up by a school named Hogwarts in the United Kingdom. So far Headman Talit had been happy for them, it was said to be one of the oldest schools of magic in the world, and its headman was said to be wise and kind; however for people like Yazmun, whose Muggle families were reluctant for various reasons not to let their children go to a distant land, life was a little tricky.

Yazmun sighed into his pillow, at least he could talk to his parents about it. Washeeb, another pupil, had been taken out of school by her parents soon after the announcement was made to parents.

Sitting down for dinner, Yazmun reflected he was also lucky his parents weren’t particularly religious, or he might have been stoned for witchcraft. He was thankful his mother had accepted him for who he was, and that his father relented and had allowed him to attend the Anatolia Institute.

His mother scooped him some mousaka, before moving to his younger siblings.

“Yaz when are you gonna show us some magic?!” his brother, Ibrahim cried impatiently. The two of them had been more than a little excited they had a wizard for an older brother.

“Not until I’m sixteen.” He smiled in exasperation.

“Yes and maybe never at the rate your headman’s going.” His father reminded him of their disagreement.

“What, but Fa?!”

“Husband, this might be a step too far.” At least his mother was on his side.

“No Yasmin, I am getting tired of his “announcements”, he keeps making. Why can’t our son just tell us himself?” Yazmun could see his mother’s eyes begin to grow red.

“Fa, you know I can’t come home during term time, the owl travels much faster. Besides, they send them at night so the neighbours don’t notice,” he argued.

“That may be so, but it doesn’t mean I like it any better,” his father retaliated. “I don’t know why I let you go to that “school”, if I can call it that. How’s a degree in magic tricks supposed to get you a real job?!”

Tears were flowing freely now down his mother’s face.

“Ma, what’s going on?” Rashin asked, she had never experienced a proper argument.

“Not n-ow pashtum, go t-to your-room. I-I’ll explain l-ater,” she replied.

Then the bowl of mousaka cracked. The whole family jumped, and little Rashin and Ibrahim ran to their room.

“Yazmun!” His father cried.

“It wasn’t me Fa, I swear it!”

“Well if it wasn’t you then.....” he petered off, realisation dawning on him. “Yasmin, get the children, we’re leaving!”

She rose and made her way to their bedroom, understanding implicit in her movements. Yazmun however was frozen, how was it possible that they had found him? He barely noticed his father rising to his feet until he yanked Yazmun by the collar so he stood beside him.

“It looks you were right Yazmun, get your wand.” But he felt little satisfaction from this small victory over his father.

Before he could leave the dining room however, a loud knock came at the door. Yazmun stopped, this could only mean one thing. But his father shoved him to the side.

“Your wand, quickly!”

Yazmun dashed into his room, tripping over a pile of laundry he had yet to sort. He leapt back up, jabbing his toe painfully. Ignoring the pain however, Yazmun threw his pillow to the side and grabbed the slender piece of pine wood from its holiday resting place.

He heard his father open the door as his siblings squabbled over which toy to bring with them.

“Salam A’le kum, can I help you?” Yazmun heard him say.

“You can give up your son now and there will be no bloodshed.” A deep voice replied menacingly.

“Well then you can polish my shoes and shove that thought up your arse!” his father replied.

“Pashtum, quickly now! We must leave!” his mother yelled at Yazmun’s siblings as they stumbled past Yazmun’s door. Then Yazmun’s mother stopped, she could see his father confronting the intruder.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_ spoke the deep voice. Yazmun heard the sound of something like a speeding train, as if something vast and unimaginable was rushing forward to flatten all in its path. Green briefly filled the room and Yazmun heard something crumple and land heavily. His mother screamed.

Oh why Fa, why? Yazmun cried inwardly.

He stormed out of his room. His mother and siblings were crowded around his father’s limp form. The intruder stood between Yazmun and his family. He wore a red cloak, maroon leather boots complimented his yellow silk doublet and crimson leggings: the uniform of the rebel forces.

Before he could tell Yazmun anything, the boy had fired off a Stunning spell. _“Stupefy!”_ And the intruder was thrown back out of the door.

Yazmun ran to his father’s body. Blood dripped from the late Reccip’s mouth.

“The bastards!” his mother muttered. “Killing an unarmed man, I’ll gut them myself!”

Rashin and Ibrahim were still in shock, but Yazmun started pushing them towards the door, there was little they could do for their father. But Yasmin’s hand stopped him.

Her face was livid. “No, you two will stay here, I will deal with these interlopers!”

Before Yazmun could do as much as blink, his mother had ran out of the house, kitchen knife in hand. He rushed after her, she could get-

His mother screamed, her arm had been severed at the elbow and blood gushed out in spurts.

A group of other rebels had been waiting outside. They cackled with laughter. “Stupid Muggle! Thought you’d try and best us did you?!”

They didn’t let Yasmin reply. Her limp body was lifted off the ground by the force of the Killing Curse and slammed into the wall of their house. This was followed by another rebel casting a fireball through a window.

Yazmun heard his siblings cry out in shock and pain, enchanted fire could spread very rapidly. Soon smoke billowed from the windows and he could see flames roasting the furniture and baking the walls. Occasionally he thought he saw a figure, engulfed in flames flail madly about.

“Well Yazmun, it seems you’re an orphan now.” Yazmun turned his attention back to the group of rebels, an attention that was now seeing red. The rebels guffawed at that. “You might as well join us, you are the reason we came.”

Then they exploded.

Yazmun was tossed like a ragdoll and landed amongst chunks of flesh, blood and what may have been a clump of mangled head. Bile and mousaka forced its way up his throat and Yazmun heaved away, spattering the dusty ground with dinner.

He tried to stand, but a lancing pain speared his leg. Looking down Yazmun saw his foot twisted at an unnatural angle. He would have fainted there and then, had it not been for the appearance of a man stepping between the quivering boots and lower legs of what had been the rebel group. The man approached him, entering the light from Yazmun’s burning house.

He wore a dark brown trench coat, its edge stained with dried mud, white leggings and a yellow jerkin; his head was wrapped up in a navy blue scarf. To all intents and purposes he looked like any other wizarding tourist. Until Yazmun saw his eyes and gasped. They were a brilliant purple, sparkling in the firelight.

“Hello Yazmun, how are you?” He spoke Turkish with only a faint accent.

Yazmun whimpered, the throbbing in his ankle distracting him from meaningful speech.

“I see,” the man said, bending down to examine Yazmun’s ankle. Yazmun shivered, the man was giving off every sign of being dangerous.  “This looks painful. I suppose some sort of introduction is in order. My name is unimportant, I am merely a tool. I had no quarrel with those men, though it pains me to see them cause such pain for so little a prize- I hope this doesn’t offend you.”

In truth, Yazmun’s attention was rather more focused on his ankle, the man’s words only slowly seeping through to him.

“Funnily enough however, you could blame all this on me. You see, my master is Chaos, and well he felt it was high time this minor disagreement between the parties was resolved, as violently as possible. So I came and “helped things along”; I killed a few men here, murdered some over there, caused disruption to normal government procedures. Soon I had brewed myself a nice little war, and who should be caught up in it but you.

“Well, I thought to myself, why not enjoy some violence and get stuck in. I found this group attacking some Muggles and decided to set things right. That spell you just saw, one of my own inventions. But then I saw you, and well to cut a long story short came to see if I could “help you along”.....painfully.....” The last word was emphasised.

“Have you learnt the Bludgeoning hex yet? I’m going to show its effects on you!” Yazmun looked up into the man’s eyes, he was completely mad.

_“Frapion!”_  The man smiled viciously as an invisible fist sunk itself into his stomach.

Staggering, Yazmun came to his feet. He stumbled into a run, he had to get away from the man.

A second curse knocked him onto his back as it connected with his weak ankle. Tears stinging his cheeks, Yazmun crawled desperately.

_“Ossus fragnum!”_ A sickening crack accompanied Yazmun scream as his left femur snapped in two, bone bursting from the flesh. “Oops! I was supposed to stick to bludgeoning. Please accept my sincere apologies!”

Time after time, a curses pummelled Yazmun’s legs until all was left was a pulpy mass.

By this point he was drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain past the point of feeling. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he hacked and coughed his way into living a bit longer.

“Here, let me help you.” Yazmun was moved to lean against a rock. He could see a bright red light where once had been his home. “Now Yazmun, I want you to pay attention.” Yazmun’s gaze drifted to the blurry round thing in front of him. He knew he should be afraid for some reason, but all he wanted to do was sleep, a long, dreamless sleep. “This spell has saved me countless times and could save yours, I’ll even give you your wand to practice. It goes like this: _Cervis Detonatum.”_

The man pressed Yazmun’s wand into his hand, but the boy’s limp fingers were incapable of holding anything.

He sighed. “Very well, I must say I’m disappointed, I’d have you pitched as the avenging hero but, ah well, you can’t have everything.”

Yes, Yazmun thought, sleep would be a great idea.

_“Cervis detonatum!”_

Yazmun’s eyes opened, wide awake, where was he, why was the house on fire, wh-

Yazmun’s head exploded.


	5. Hogsmeade, or lack of-Holly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so that last chapter was pretty bloody I'll admit, but it was loosely connected to events in the wider wizarding world. Here we can see the repercussions of something Hamish mentioned in the first chapter, the war in Yemen. 
> 
> Something I should say now, is that with the beginning of the exam season, I won't be posting any new chapters on ao3 for the time being. My proofreader too is in the midst of their exams, though they have said chapter 6 is being edited, and I am in the process of finishing the subsequent chapter. So keep your wigs or cats on, this isn't an abandonment, merely a short hiatus.

**Holly**

Classes continued. Hagrid moved to Flobberworms, as per Hamish’s suggestion of perhaps starting small for third and fourth years, Trelawney predicted Holly impaling herself on her toothbrush- which Hamish admitted took some talent after regaling them with the tale of a similar incident occurring to a Muggle-, Snape continued his usual diatribe against her and McGonagall’s work was already overloading Ronnie and Holly’s time.

However in no time at all, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become everyone’s favourite subject. Everyone but Malfoy and the Slytherins had positive things to say about Professor Lupin’s lessons.

But no one cared about the state of his robes. From Boggarts they moved onto Red Kaps, creatures that dwelled in caves or potholes, waiting for an unsuspecting person to fall in to their lairs to trap them. Then it was Kappas, olive-green water-dwellers with web feet who caught prey foolish enough to enter their pools.

The downside came in Potions where Snape seemed in a particularly foul mood. The tale of the Boggart-Snape dressed in Neville’s grandmother’s clothes only served to fuel his loathing of the Gryffindors.  

At least Holly had Quidditch. The seven players on Gryffindor’s team were the Chasers Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, Fred and George were Beaters, and Holly herself was the Seeker, charged with catching the golden Snitch. Their captain was Oliver Wood, a burly seventh year who was also the Keeper.

“This is it!” he said, gathering them all before their first practice of the year, Holly glad she had flown over the summer. “My last chance to win the Quidditch cup. We’ve the best team Hogwarts has seen in years; Angelina, Katie, Alicia, I don’t think I’ve seen better Chasers.”

“Cheers Oliver.” They smiled.

“Fred, George, I know you guys like to joke around, but I know good Beaters when I see them.”

“Oh Oliver, don’t make us blush,” Fred crooned.

“Yeah you know we don’t like being the centre of attention,” George added. They had set off dungbombs under the Slytherins’ table that morning and earned a month’s worth of detentions.

“And a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!” he said fiercely, prompting Holly to blush herself. “And me, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought.

“We think you’re great too, Ollie m’boy,” the twins said together.

It was Oliver’s turn to blush. “The point is that we’ve always had the potential, but other things,” He gave Holly a pointed stare under which she squirmed. “Have gotten in the way.”

“This year though-” George began.

“We’ll win, we’ll beat them all!” Fred finished.

“Abolutely!” Angelina nodded.

“Totally!” Alicia affirmed.

“Oh yeah!” Katie grinned.

“Definitely,” Holly agreed. What could stand in their way?

In spite of the rain, mud and freezing conditions, Holly returned to the common room feeling more satisfied than she had yet felt. It was great to be back playing Quidditch. If she was honest it was probably one of the best parts of Hogwarts. Trainings had intensified to thrice a week, the team retiring to the common room each time drenched in rain and sweat. The nights were also getting longer, the sun setting earlier each day. But no amount of hardship could tarnish her vision of the silver Quidditch Cup.

She came back one night, dripping onto the rugs as she made her way to a warm shower before bed.

Hamish intercepted her. “Hey, ye got a letter,” he said, handing her a brown envelope, her name written neatly in the script of Professor Lupin. “Not sure what it’s about. Ronnie’s already gone to bed and I’m probably gonna try and convince Heracles to do the same.” He glanced over at where Heracles was poring over a copy of _Arithmancy: The Numbers behind the Magic_. “He and Ronnie just had an argument about Crookshanks again.”

“Well at least I avoided that eh?”

“Funny, now I have to try and get them to talk.”

Holly smiled ruefully, Heracles spending more and more time studying was one thing Holly could do without. “Good luck with that, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, g’night.”

After a shower that eased her aching muscles, Holly slipped into bed, the letter clutched in her hand. She tore it open, careful not to wake the snoring Ronnie.

_Holly,_

_I hope you’re enjoying your classes and being reunited with friends. I also hear you’re quite the star on the Quidditch pitch, so best of luck with that too._

_I’d like to arrange an appointment with you tomorrow if you don’t mind missing Hogsmeade. I’ll talk to Professor McGonagall to see if she could let you go at other times. It might be a teacher could accompany you. This is just to have a chat so don’t worry about telling Heracles you’re in trouble._

_If this convenient then pop by my office tomorrow._

_Professor R J Lupin_

Holly placed the letter on her bedside table. There was little hope of Hogsmeade despite Lupin’s assurances; not only did she lack a signed permission slip, but with Sirius Black on the loose and apparently after her, McGonagall was unlikely to run the risk of one of her students being hurt in any way.

)(

The door to Professor Lupin’s class was ajar when Holly entered his classroom. The desks and chairs were still piled to the sides, creating a peculiar valley through which she walked. The class now felt like a Defence Against the Dark Arts room, with diagrams of various creatures lined one wall, whilst another had been covered with posters detailing various hexes and jinxes with which to incapacitate foes. Holly smiled, it was a definite improvement over Professor Lupin’s predecessors.

Professor Quirrell’s tenure had seen the room decorated with garlands of onions for fear of vengeful vampires. The smoke had made it difficult to pay attention to his stuttering lectures. When Holly recalled the reason for his nerves she shuddered; Quirrell had been a host to the spirit of Lord Voldemort.

Lockhart, on the other hand, had hung many portraits of herself. So much so that if one tried to turn away from her tales of derring-do they would only be faced with another painting of her infuriating smiles. Heracles still occasionally argued that she had had some talent.

Yeah, in fraud and memory charms, Holly thought to herself.

Holly climbed the steps that led to the office at the back of the room. A soft “Come in.” answered her knock. Professor Lupin was writing a note when Holly entered. He looked up after she closed the door.

“Holly, good you could come. I hope I’m not interrupting plans?” He smiled.

“No professor,” she replied. “I only have some work.”

“Take a seat.” Professor Lupin gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

As she sat, Holly noticed the large glass tank by the wall. “Sir, what’s that for?”

“Ah, as a matter of fact it’s for your year.” Professor Lupin explained. “I won’t say what it is but I’m expecting a delivery this weekend. I just need to finish this note to Professor Dumbledore very quickly.” He added a few lines to the memo before putting it to the side. “How about some tea? I’ve only teabags but I would say you’re probably quite tired of the leaves by now.”

“How you know that sir?” Holly nodded. “I guess talking to Professor McGonagall didn’t work?”

“Professor McGonagall told me, well every staff member I suppose. I hope you’re not worried Holly, Divination is a tricky business.” Professor Lupin picked up his wand and tapped a kettle beside him on a small table, soon enough steam was puffing out of its spout merrily. “I may have been overly optimistic in that note Holly, the fact that a mass murderer is on the loose did little to avail you of not having a signed permission slip.”

“Professor?” Holly said suddenly, recalling her first lesson.

“Yes Holly, is there something on your mind?” He poured some water into two cups beside the kettle, adding teabags to each. Holly accepted hers, placing it on the chair next to her.

“Do you remember the lesson where you showed us a Boggart?”

“You want to know why I stopped you from fighting it?” he asked. Professor Lupin conjured a jug of milk and placed it within her reach.

“Yes sir.”

“I should have thought it obvious.” Holly was taken aback. “I expected it would take on the form of Lord Voldemort. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of the effect that might have on you and the rest of the class.”

Holly had to admit she was impressed, not many dared to say Voldemort’s name in public. The only other person she had heard do so was Professor Dumbledore.

“Well, I did think that, at first I mean professor,” said Holly. “But then I remembered the train, and those Dementors.”

“Aha,” Professor Lupin commented softly. “I’m impressed, Holly.” He smiled at Holly’s look of surprise. “It suggests you fear fear itself, this is very wise.”

Holly’s mind decided a sip of tea was the best option, she was unsure of how to react to the praise.

“So you’ve been thinking all this time I thought you too weak to fight the Boggart?” Professor Lupin said, shaking his head.

“Well, yeah.” Holly replied, feeling quite sheepish. “Sir, you Professor Dumbledore said the Dementors-”

Holly was interrupted from going further by the arrival of Professor Snape carrying a silver chalice, the contents smoking gently. He stopped at the sight of Holly.

“Ah Severus,” Professor Lupin smiled. “Thank you very much. Could you just put it on my desk?”

Snape’s eyes wandered over to Holly as he did so.

“Holly and I were just discussing her classes.”

“Fascinating,” Snape said without caring. “You should drink it directly. I’ve brewed a cauldron of it so should you need more...”

“Thank you again Severus, I’ll be sure to fetch some tomorrow.” Professor Lupin replied.

“Naturally.” Snape answered good-naturedly, but Holly couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes. He backed out of the room slowly.

Holly looked at the chalice, then Professor Lupin quizzically.

“I’ve never been much of a potion-brewer and Professor Snape has kindly made this for me.” Professor Lupin said as he took the chalice, inspecting its contents. “Pity it won’t work with sugar, the taste is....disagreeable.” He grimaced after a sip. It seemed like an understatement.

“Why?” Holly asked.

“I’ve been off-colour lately,” he explained. “And this brew is one of the few ways to alleviate the symptoms.” He took another sip, wrinkling his nose at the taste.

“Professor Snape’s very keen on teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Holly blurted.

Professor Lupin only seemed mildly interested. “So I’ve heard.”

“Some people have said he’d do anything, to get the job.” At that moment she wasn’t sure why she continued, perhaps she thought Snape had tried to kill Professor Lupin.

“Is that so?” He finished the drink, disgust written across his face. “Well Holly, it’s been good to have a chat with you, but I’m afraid I have some tests to mark. I’ll see you at the feast later.”

This seemed to be her cue to leave. Holly stood, picking up her bag before placing her empty cup next to the kettle. “Right, I’ll see you later sir.”

)(

Holly spent the remainder of her day between the common room, where she played Exploding Snap with Colin Creevey and his second year friends, and the Great Hall, providing company to plates of lemon cakes and her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages.  

Eventually Ronnie, Hamish and Heracles returned whilst Holly sat in an armchair by the fire. They babbled and yakked to Holly about their day.

“Zonko’s is amazing!” Ronnie said gleefully. “They are so many cool things!”

“Yes, though I think I preferred the post office! They have so many owls, each colour-coded so you can choose the speed at which you want something delivered,” said Heracles, equally breathlessly.

“Aye ye did seem to like tha’. But Ronnie, ye forgot Honeydukes,” Hamish said pointedly.

“Oh right yeah, don’t get me started on that place Holly, you have to be there to know what I mean!” She plunged a hand into her oversized jacket pocket, it returned with a shower of sweets and chocolates that covered Holly. “This is as much as we could bring with us.”

“You mean you ate half of them.” Heracles said sighing.

“I did not!” Ronnie retorted.

Holly slumped her shoulders in defeat, picking up the few stray wine gums and putting them in a pile with the rest. “Thanks guys.” She looked to Hamish. “Where were you?”

“Oh, I was with Iolo and his friends,” he said casually, but Holly noticed his eyes weren’t quite meeting hers. “These two were gettin’ a wee bit much.” He whispered to her as the guilty pair continued to bicker. “Pretty much did the same, jus’ in a different order.”

His look seemed to ask her the same.

“Nothing much,” she sighed, putting down a paragraph on vanishing small objects. “Did a bit of work I suppose, flew around the pitch a few times. I had tea with Professor Lupin.”

“How did that go?” Heracles asked, the spat having subsided so that the pair could rejoin the conversation.

“Alright I guess, we ended up talking about why I didn’t fight the Boggart in our first lesson. Turns out he thought Voldemort would show up.” They continued through the portrait hole.

“What did ye think of in the end?” Hamish asked.

“A Dementor,” she said simply. “I remembered the train and well...” She trailed off. “But then Snape came in with this chalice of something.” Holly recounted how the liquid was smoking, about Snape’s behaviour and how Professor Lupin seemed so unconcerned.

“He drank it!!! It could have been poisoned!” Ronnie said worriedly.

“Oh come on, Professor Snape surely wouldn’t try to kill Professor Lupin in front of Holly.” Heracles reasoned as they entered the Hall. “Besides, if he tried to he wouldn’t use a potion, people would make the connection too quickly for him to find an alibi.”

It had been decorated with floating pumpkins, candles flickering within them. Now and then a cloud of bats would flutter past, scattering the orange streamers accompanying the pumpkins.  

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Ronnie countered darkly.

Hamish seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t feel murder’s his style really. If he did kill Professor Lupin everyone’d think it was him, maybe he’d try and get rid of him another way.”

“Maybe,” Holly said, uncommitted. The food was delicious, even Ronnie and Heracles could agree in that. Holly filled her plate with sausages, mashed potatoes and gravy, Ronnie seemed inhale her food as always whilst Heracles was more reserved with his consumption, only having three servings.

Hamish on the other hand speared the pie from under Ronnie’s gaze. He winked cheekily as she fumed, only for Holly to swap plates with him.

“Ye are a bold one.”

Holly herself would have enjoyed the pie, were it not for the food drifting lazily through the air to Heracles; his wand directed the dessert to his plate.

“I don’t know why I bother!” Hamish shouted dramatically as Heracles took a very satisfied bite. He threw his hands into the air, only to put them down as he realised every face in the Hall was pointed at him, it had grown deathly silent.

Holly looked up front to see Professor Dumbledore standing at the staff table. His eyes twinkled merrily. “Thank you Mr Williams for that fabulous display.”  Fred and George snickered softly. Hamish had at this point gone quite red in the face and he lowered himself back into his seat.

“I have an important announcement regarding the recent conflict in Yemen. For those of you unaware fighting has broken out in the country and both sides have shown a willingness to use children.” He left a pause to let the implications sink in. “As such a plea from Headman Yut of the Anatolia Institute of the Arcane for shelter for his students from the war was sent to me yesterday morning. He wishes to be able to continue their education in a safe and welcoming environment.”

It was becoming clear to Holly how Professor Dumbledore had answered.

“I, alongside several other schools and magical governments, replied to his plea. To my own delight he accepted my offer to join us here at Hogwarts. He and his students will be joining us in November.” At the mention of foreign students the Hall broke into murmurs of interest. “They will share our teaching facilities and grounds, and I hope you will all join me in offering them the warmest welcome. To simplify matters they will be sorted into one of your houses.

“I will leave your Heads of House to explain the details of the arrangement to you all. In the meantime I ask that you show them our hospitality and help them to feel as welcome as possible.

“Now I think it high time you all head back to your common rooms. I bid you all a good night and a happy Halloween.” Professor Dumbledore spoke, returning to his seat.

“Well that was a wee bit embarrassing.” Hamish grumbled. “Why didn’t ye say anythin’?”

Ronnie spoke through a mouthful of chocolate. “Because it was funny.”

Holly snorted as Ronnie grabbed further handfuls of sweets before they were sent back to the kitchens. They joined the crowd leaving the Hall, a few others had pockets stuffed full of treats. Much of the discussion was naturally concerned with the prospect of new arrivals.

“I am looking forward to meeting these people,” Heracles commented. “They probably have quite interesting stories to tell.”

“By interesting ye mean harrowing?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he replied.

They began climbing the stairs. Malfoy was stood by the entrance. It was strange to see her without an entourage.

“Alright Malfoy? The Slytherins’ common room’s that way!” Ronnie shouted to her.

Malfoy flinched from her reverie. “Shut up Weazelbee!” She hurried away.

“Funny, I’ve never seen Malfoy without Crabbe and Goyle.” Holly thought aloud.

Heracles agreed. “It is strange, I wonder what’s wrong.”

“So long as she’s leaving us alone I’m happy.” Ronnie said offhandedly.

Hamish brought their attention back to the front. “What’s with the queue?”

He was right, a crowd was gathering on the stairs leading to the Fat Lady. Whispered conversations flitted through it like sparrows.

Ginny Weasley, Ronnie’s sister, saw them and detached herself from her friends. “It’s the Fat Lady, she’s gone!”

“Gone?!” Ronnie asked incredulously. “Where did she go?”

“We don’t know,” Ginny replied.

“Let me through, make way!” Priscilla’s voice cut across them. She was striding towards the growing knot of Gryffindors. “Excuse me, I’m Head Girl!” She pushed her way up to where Holly could see the Fat Lady’s gilded frame. “You can’t all have forgotten the....” Priscilla fell silent for a moment, Holly craned her neck to see what was happening.

“Somebody fetch Professor Dumbledore,” she said in a clipped tone. Dean Thomas, a fellow third year, volunteered himself.

Soon enough the headmaster appeared. Filch was with him. Holly led her friends up to the landing, Ginny tailing them.

He examined the frame; Holly could see great tears in the canvas, as if someone had slashed the portrait in frustration.

“We need to find her,” Dumbledore said calmly, in contrast to Priscilla’s pained expression. “Miss Weasley, could you fetch Professor McGonagall and the other heads of house, we shall need a search,” he said to her.

“Yes sir,” Priscilla said stiffly.

“You’ll be lucky!” A voice cackled, Peeves the poltergeist swooped over their heads.

“What do you mean, Peeves?” Dumbledore asked steadily.

Peeves stopped abruptly, he dared not taunt Professor Dumbledore. Instead his voice became oily, which might have been worse. “Ashamed she is Your Headship. Doesn’t want to be seen. She’s in a right state. I saw her running through the savannah painting on the fifth floor.” He added unconvincingly. “Poor thing.”

Holly gasped, she could see the Fat Lady’s headdress from behind a tree trunk on a painting below the landing. “Professor, down there.” She pointed it out. Everyone rushed to see where finger was directed.

“Thank you Miss Potter. And did she say who did it?”

 “Oh yes!” Peeves grinned from above. “I’m told she’s a monster, this Sirius Black.”


	6. Heracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a strange night for the gang.

**Heracles**

The night was not going well for Heracles. Despite the mats, pillows and sleeping bags provided, he just couldn’t get comfortable. It had something to do with the fact they weren’t in their dorms, but in the Great Hall.

“Ye alright, Cles?” Hamish asked as he plumped his own pillow.

“No, not really,” he answered. “I just can’t seem to get comfortable.”

Mmm, I’ll see how the girls are.” Hamish turned to the screen separating them from their friends. “Holly, Ronnie? Ye alright?”

“We’re ok,” Holly’s voice replied. “How about you guys?”

“I’m ok, Cles can’t get comfy.”

“I think it might be partly be down to knowing these sleeping bags have been vomited on,” Heracles explained.

“Wait what?!” Ronnie cried from her side. “Who told you that?!”

“No one. I just observed that my sleeping bag has stains that correspond to spilt food, or vomit. I settled on the latter after a quick inspection,” he said calmly.

The four were silent for a moment before Holly spoke. “You smelled it didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” Heracles admitted.

Hamish snorted with Ronnie and Holly giggled.

“Still though,” Hamish mused. “shame about not getting my own bed. Up until now it was going pretty well.”

“Yeah, great feast,” Ronnie agreed.

“What interested me is why Black would try and break into the common room,” Heracles said thoughtfully. “I mean, you would have thought that if he was trying to kill Holly, he would have waited for her to become separated from the group, or at least know where she would most likely be in the castle.”

“Well Dad did say they were mad, who knows what she was thinking,” Ronnie said.

Further discussion of the topic was ended by the arrival of Jasper Gilgrave, one of the Gryffindor prefects.

“Guys it’s time you got some sleep, it’s past curfew.”

“Right, we’ll, uh, we’ll get a wee bit in before the morning,” Hamish said unconvincingly.

“Whatever Hamish, as long as you don’t wake other people,” Jasper snickered as he left to join his own friends.

“Wait, how does he knows my name?!” Hamish said in shock.

“You’re part of Holly Potter’s gang,” Heracles replied conciliatorily. “It’s hard not to know the group who get into trouble each year.”

“That or my dashin’ good looks,” Hamish countered.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ronnie giggled.

“Yes, because we’re now going to suspend reality so you can be handsome,” Holly drawled.

Hamish huffed. “I resent that accusation!”

“Guys be quiet.” Parvati Patil moaned. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry Parvati,” said Heracles, staring pointedly at Hamish as he really ought to apologise.

Heracles was about to offer a “good night”, but Ronnie’s snores cut him off. Soon Holly’s soft purrs joined in, leaving the two boys to bid themselves good night silently.

Hamish lay quietly beside Heracles, the only sign of life coming from his chest rising and falling. It always amused Heracles how his outgoing friend could change from crowd-pleaser to silent log. Unlike Ronnie, whose snores Holly recounted adventures of, Hamish didn’t make a sound when he slumbered.

Heracles however could not sleep, his mind was too busy thinking. While it was often true his mind was occupied by thoughts of work and exams, tonight the mind of Heracles Granger was busy contemplating a mystery.

Who was Professor Lupin? Admittedly he was probably the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they had yet had- Heracles cringed at his infatuation with Lockhart last year-, but there was something about Professor Lupin that screamed secret. And Heracles had an inkling he knew what it was.

Firstly there had been his boggart, a yellow balloon-no, the full moon! A strange fear for a man. Perhaps he had had a traumatic experience that he associated with the moon, or some obscure ailment that worsened during the full phase. Then there was his inability to teach at the moment, Heracles decided he should check the lunar calendar, perhaps there was a connection, the mystery ailment perhaps. He wasn’t sure what kind of maladies could be affected by the full moon, however he knew of one.

No, not yet Heracles! He thought to himself, he had to consider all the evidence.

By which he meant the scarring and signs of ageing on a relatively young professor. Heracles estimated Professor Lupin to be in his thirties, yet he had grey hairs and had the air of someone older. Heracles pondered this for a moment, what might cause apparently premature ageing? It had to be related to whatever the full moon was all about. While it might be due to another cause, he felt it would be wise to include it in a wide list of search parameters.

Heracles was about to join his friends in slumber, when he heard the door to the Great Hall open. Footsteps stopped, and Heracles strained his ears to pick up what was being said.

“All well here, Miss Weasley?” said Professor Dumbledore.

“Oh yes sir, all quiet here.” Heracles heard Priscilla reply. “Any sign of Black?”

“I’m afraid not, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick haven’t seen hide nor hair.” Professor Dumbledore sighed.

“Headmaster.” Professor Snape had joined them. “I’ve searched the dungeons, and Mr Filch has looked in the Owlery, but we haven’t found anything.”

“I suppose that is to be expected,” Professor Dumbledore commented. “We would hardly stay long if we were in the same position.”

“Does that mean we’ll be able to move back to the Tower once this is over?” Priscilla asked pompously.

“Yes, it does Miss Weasley. I suggest you rejoin your friends for the time being, there is little you can do at the present time,” Professor Dumbledore replied.

Heracles could almost see Priscilla’s disappointment at not being able to remain with the professors and discuss matters.

“Quite remarkable.” Professor Snape said softly after Priscilla’s footsteps had faded. “To have breached the castle completely undetected.”

“It is an incredible feat.” Professor Dumbledore concurred.

“It seems to me headmaster, as I’ve no doubt it does to you, that it would be impossible without inside help.” Heracles could tell Professor Snape was insinuating something. “I wonder if you have given any thought as to who might be behind it?”

“I have Severus, as well as to many theories each as unlikely as your own.”

“If I might remind you of my own objections to one of our new members of staff.” He didn’t say the name, but it was clear to Heracles who Professor Snape was accusing.

“I have made my mind clear on this subject clear Severus, I trust each and every member of staff in this castle with its security, and that of its pupil body, yourself included.” Professor Dumbledore said firmly, shutting down that avenue of conversation.

“And what of Potter? Should she be warned?”

“Perhaps, but for now let her sleep. I would not have her dreams disturbed for what we do not know for certain.” said Professor Dumbledore. Heracles looked up at the ceiling; the Hall was showing a cloudless night sky. “Regardless, I think she may find the arrival of our guests more than enough to occupy her mind.”

“Yes headmaster.” Heracles heard his footsteps.

“Good night Severus.”

Heracles’ dreams were particularly strange that night. First Professor Lupin was telling him he shouldn’t have uncovered his secret, for which he would be serving detentions forever, before he turned into a wolf that attacked him, only for Ronnie to blast him away before a great knife slashed its way through the class walls, creating tears for Holly to ride through on her broomstick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to finish another chapter after 4 days on and off writing. My proofreader souslapluie has also been busy with things so they've been unable to edit any chapters for a while; which explains why it's taken so long to update. In other news I have an exam tomorrow, but I've reached the point of saturation of revision. I literally can't even at this point. 
> 
> I've also drawn a few of the characters which are on my deviantart account here: http://cheesew97.deviantart.com/
> 
> This latest offering is a little short admittedly, but rest assured the last chapter I finished writing of around 16 pages, which is probably a personal best for me. So bear with as we are taken into the min of our favourite clever Gryffindor.


	7. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor gets a new gatekeeper. Snape ruins Holly's favourite lesson and the Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor Quidditch match is drowned.

**Holly**

The following day was not pleasant for Holly at all. To begin with the entirety of Gryffindor had to troop back up to their common room to find the Fat Lady’s, thankfully temporary, replacement was not particularly suited to his task.

In fact Sir Cadogan was probably the least suited painting for the job but for one aspect: his stupid bravery.

“Greetings, my young comrades. I trust you all slept well under the watchful eye of our noble head girl. Due to the Lady’s fear and obvious unsuitability for the great task of guarding this portal to your realm under the threat of the villainous Black, I, Sir Cadogan the Brave, have volunteered to take the commission proposed to the paintings of Hogwarts Castle,.” the clumsy knight said, hands on hips, only for his visor to fall onto his face, causing him to completely fail to draw his sword to face the imagined attacker.

“Oh Merlin, not him!” Ronnie groaned. Holly couldn’t help but share the sentiment.

“To ensure the adequate fulfilling of my commission I shall be utilising all my cunning to devise devious new means with which to prevent any ne’er-do-wells from breaching the bastion of the brave!” The gathered Gryffindors shifted impatiently, it was becoming clear their patience was being sorely tested. “Traps, passwords, riddles and-”

“Oh just give us the password and let us in!” Ronnie shouted.

But this only drew the hapless knight’s attention to an ever-reddening Ronnie.

“Aha, do mine eyes deceive me or is this the beauteous maid of whom I had the honour of escorting one find September morn?!” he cried in delight.

“Sir Cadogan, I must insist you finish the theatrics and let us in.” Priscilla intervened from behind Holly. She pushed her way to the painting. “If not I will inform the headmaster and have him assign a replacement.”

“I-of course Miss-at once!” The portrait hole swung open, and Priscilla led the Gryffindors back into the common room.

“Damn, never thought I’d say it, but Priscilla was actually cool for once!” Ronnie said in awe.

“We quite agree!” Fred said appearing from nowhere.

“Though we’ll have to make sure she doesn’t hear that,” George added.

“Wouldnae want her head to get too big?” Hamish asked.

“Hamish my friend, I think I’m beginning to take a shine to you,” Fred smiled.

With that the pair zoomed off to their dorm, leaving Holly giggling at Hamish’s bemused expression.

“It’s the sorta thing they’d say.....right?” he asked.

)(

However much this improved Holly’s mood, the effect of Hamish’s bemusement was soon lost to another day’s classes. Since his disastrous first lesson, Hagrid had them studying Flobberworms, strange bags of invertebrate flesh and slime that seemed to do little beside consume the lettuce leaves they pushed into what were apparently their mouths. The Monster Book of Monsters said either end was suitable for feeding. This change of tack had been prompted by Hamish’s suggestion that Hagrid start with less dangerous creatures for third and fourth years.

“I didn’t know anythin’ could be this borin’.” he defended as he pushed another cauliflower inside his Flobberworm’s mouth...or perhaps its- It was hard to tell the difference.

“Well it would’ve been good to look that up, wouldn’t it Williams?” Malfoy sneered on hearing this.

“Well at least yeh cannae get injured if ye insult them Malfoy!” Hamish replied, his brogue thickening in anger.

“What’s the point in wasting my time on these things anyway?!” she shot back. “They’re below me!”

“Oh really, I was gonnae say they bear a strong resemblance to ye, ye know, spineless and useless!”

The Gryffindors guffawed at that, causing Malfoy to pale in anger. Before she could bite back a retort however, Hagrid had returned from collecting further food for the Flobberworms.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked as he dumped the pile in the centre of the class. “More lettuce fer yeh.”

Holly’s gloom only continued into the afternoon as Heracles uncovered the worst.

“Professor Lupin still isn’t teaching!” he said wide-eyed.

“Who’s replacing him this time?” Holly asked. The last time they had had a Ministry substitute and a lesson of writing. Holly could only hope that-

“That would be me, Potter.” Holly could almost hear Snape’s sneer. “Enter.”

The queue of Gryffindors followed the Slytherins into their usual seats, Snape swooping in behind, slamming the door as he did so.

“Due to...unforeseen circumstances, your teacher is unable to teach at the present, Professor Dumbledore asked me to _substitute_ for him.” Snape’s words dripped with irritation.

“Sorry sir, but why’s Professor Lupin unable to teach?” Hamish asked, hand raised.

Snape swooped down to desk level in front of Hamish. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Williams. Suffice it to say that Professor Lupin finds he is incapable of teaching at present." He rose again and glided to stand behind Professor Lupin’s desk. “But I must ask all of you why you have not got your books, quills and parchment out, are you not expecting to write?”

“Professor Lupin’s lessons are practical.” Holly piped up. “He sets us written work for homework.”

“Well, Potter, I should like to inform you that he is not directing this lesson, I am; now take out your things,” he sneered.

Holly was barely surprised by Snape’s answer, he would likely use this lesson to insult Professor Lupin at every opportunity. It was probably a good thing Hamish’s arm reminded her that it really wasn’t worth getting a detention over. She pulled her books and quill out of her bag with the rest of the class.

“Unfortunately Professor Lupin has not left notes as to where you are up to in your work, so I am going to have to assume you all know something or he would have said so.” Snape swished out his wand, turning on the projector Holly had assumed was for decoration. “Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four.”

Holly shared a look with Hamish, they had never gone this far into the book. Opening it at the four hundred mark, Holly turned back a few pages until she reached three hundred and ninety-four.

_Werewolf_

_Mainly confined to Western Europe and North America, the most common form of lycanthopus, the virus known to cause lycanthropy, has its first written records from Anglo-Saxon scholars around the 8 th century AD... _

“Werewolves?!” Holly’s head shot up, Heracles was making one of his famed “point of information” points. “But sir we’ve only just done Red Kaps and Hinkypunks. We’re starting nocturnal beasts after Christmas.”

“Quiet,” Snape said curtly as he pulled down the projector screen. “Now, who can tell me the difference between and animagus and a werewolf?” The class was silent as he walked slowly down the rows. Silent but for Heracles’s _I can answer this one_ noises. “Pity.”

“Sir!” Heracles gasped. “An animagus is someone who chooses, at will, to turn into an animal, a werewolf is has no choice.”

“Did I not say quiet, Mr Granger? I would appreciate if for this lesson you might keep your mouth shut to allow the rest of the class to think for themselves.” Snape said in a thinly veiled sneer. “Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?”

Snape flicked his wand and the projector began going through a sequence of illustrations of the named beast. “Now the term werewolf comes from the Saxon _were_ meaning man, and _wold_ meaning wolf...” Snape began his lecture.

Heracles was sitting very stiffly as took notes. Snape’s comment had obviously affected him.

“Why ask if you don’t want an answer?!” Ronnie said disgruntled, arms crossed defensively.

 Heracles smiled softly to her, earning a pair of reddened ears and a mumbled “just saying” from her. “Weasley, if I have to turn to your table once again I shall take more than the ten points from Gryffindor.” Snape cut across before Holly could calm the pair.

The lesson continued in more or less silent aside Snape’s lecture and the scratching of quills on parchment.

The bell for lunch came and went before Snape let them go. “For Monday, I want 3 sides of parchment on the werewolf, with particular emphasis on recognising one.”

“But sir,” Holly protested. “it’s Quidditch tomorrow!”

“Then I recommend extra care, Potter.” Snape spoke softly. “Loss of limb will not excuse you!”

The Slytherins sniggered as they left, Malfoy of course having postponed their match with her whining about how sore her arm was. Holly could only blush furiously, how was Snape expecting her to get anything done with all the homework they had been set and Quidditch to boot?!

“It’s only on Saturday Holly, you can still do the work on Sunday.” Heracles’ suggestion earnt him a glare.

“That’s beside the point, Cles!” she fumed. “We’ve already got loads of other work, a transfiguration essay and our dream diaries!”

“Oh no, we still have to do them?!” Ronnie moaned. “Why couldn’t it be for a week instead of a month?”

“I’d apologise for Cles, but ye know he doesn’ understand Quidditch is life.” Hamish said jokingly as they jostled their way back to the common room.

“And that school isn’t everything?” Holly asked, smiling ruefully. At least Hamish could cheer everyone up.

“Well if you’re going to be like that!” Heracles cried in mock-pain.

)(

Rain lashed against the windows as Holly woke up on Saturday, it was proving to be a grim day outside. She, Fred and George had often questioned Wood’s sanity in forcing them to practice in such conditions, however days like this reminded them that such practices were helpful; they had flown in winter storms before, they knew how to play.

The mood in the changing room however remained tense.

“We all need to be careful; Diggory’s new to the captainship so he might try some unconventional tactics.” Wood repeated at least five times as they changed.

“Oliver, we know.” Alicia Spinnet chided.

“The more you tell us the more nervous we’ll be,” Angelina Johnson added. “And if we’re nervous we make mistakes.”

“To be honest I was thinking the weather’s gonna be an issue, do you guys know how slippy my Nimbus gets in rain?” said Holly with a note of glum amusement.

“Ok, I get it.” Wood stopped them with a wave of his hands. “You guys know what to do, just focus on your job and the rest’ll fall into place. George, or Fred, can one of you guys try and keep an eye on Holly? We don’t want our star player getting felled.”

“Oliver, my friend,” Fred began.

“It would be our honour,” George finished solemnly.

“Star player?!” Angelina Johnson asked indignantly.

“What about the rest of us?!” Katie Bell cried jokingly.

As they picked up their brooms, slipped on their goggles and walked out of the changing rooms onto the pitch, Wood tried his best to justify his comment. Holly grinned, she knew Angelina and Katie were joking, but Oliver didn’t need to know that.

He uplifted mood was drenched in a wash of rain as she stepped out of the sheltered walkway onto the pitch. Within seconds Holly was shivering, what hair that wasn’t tied into her plaits became plastered to her head.

Holly barely heard Madam Hooch’s requests for a fair and just game over the crowd and wind. She waved in the direction of the Gryffindor stands, the great _Potter for President!_ banner from her first year as bright and colourful in spite of the rain.

“I hope the bludgers aren’t slippy with this rain,” Fred said to her before he mounted his broom. Holly could only hope their storm strategy would be remembered amid the awful conditions.

How am I going to see the Snitch? Holly thought to herself as she rose in the air, her broom buffeted by gusts.

The Quaffle was released and Holly began circling the pitch, weaving around the viewing towers and goalposts.

Holly could only catch snippets of Lee Jordan’s commentary thanks to the wind. She strained her ears to listen.

“And that’s.....from Alicia Spinnet......will he score?” The intermittency with which she could hear what was going forced Holly to stop. She might as well focus on finding the Snitch, the ball would result in a win for Gryffindor or at least a quick end to one of her worst matches.

A flash of gold caught Holly’s eye: the Snitch! She rocketed towards the glint hovering over the Ravenclaw stands.

Hang on, Holly cursed herself as she realised what it was, someone’s watch.

“Holly!” George’s voice floated to her over the roar of the wind. “Wood’s called timeout!”

Holly turner her Nimbus around to see the two teams on the ground. The familiar shape of Wood clearly arguing with Madam Hooch. She flew to join them.

“...it’s crazy...neither of the Seekers are going to be able to see the Snitch at this rate,” he was shouting.

Madam Hooch seemed to be having none of it.

Holly was about to intervene herself when she heard her name.

“Holly!” Heracles had run onto the pitch, followed by Hamish and Ronnie. “What’s going on?!”

“Wood wants to postpone the match for better weather!” she yelled back. “I can’t see a thing even with these goggles!”

“Here, let me see!” Heracles shouted, offering his hand. Holly slipped the goggles over her head and passed them to him. “ _Impervius!_ Now try them!” She did so, slipping them back on.

Her vision was no longer impeded by raindrops on the lenses. “Much better, thanks Cles!” Holly turned to her teammates. “Guys, Impervius works to keep your goggles clear!”

“Good call, Holly!” Wood gave her a thumbs up. “You heard her, Impervius keeps them clear.”

With that the Gryffindor team placed the charm on their goggles, grunting in satisfaction at the results. Before Holly could take off however, she felt a hand on her arm.

“I was gonna say may the best Seeker win but you seemed a little distracted.” Holly turned around to see Cedric Diggory, the captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff team offering his hand to shake.

“Oh right yeah- sorry, you know with the rain and all that,” she blathered as they shook hands. “Good luck.”

“And to you, Potter,” he replied as they took off once more.

Fresh with determination, Holly began anew her search for the elusive Snitch. She dodged a Bludger and spun around her broom handle as a streak of yellow shot past. Despite being soaked to the bone, Holly was filled with a fresh enthusiasm for finding the golden ball. She skidded to a stop beside the goalposts, repositioning her slipping hands. It was then that she saw it: Cedric was racing after a small golden ball. How could she have been so blind?

Cursing herself, Holly shot after him, flattening herself against her broom as she followed Cedric upwards. Lightning flashed as they got higher and higher, the other players reduced to the size of ants.

Holly gasped; the thunder had revealed a cloud in the shape of great shaggy dog. She sincerely hoped this had nothing to do with her Divination lessons.

Cedric was gaining on the Snitch. For all of Holly’s speed, he had the head start, and Holly could see his hand reaching ever closer to the Snitch. She gave chase with renewed zeal, but something strange was happening. Holly’s hearing was becoming muffled, a strange eerie silence was descending around her. She wondered if Cedric could feel it too, though he seemed a little preoccupied.

It was only as she saw his fist close around the Snitch that Holly made the connection between the deep cold within her chest and the silence.

Dementors! Her mind screamed. And her eyes soon found the swarm of the creatures below her. One by one they raced up to meet her pale face.

_“No, not Holly, take me instead!”_

“ _Stand aside, you stupid girl!”_

_“Never, never Holly!”_

Holly felt numb, a white mist was filling her mind. Vaguely she felt a rushing sensation. I’ve fallen from my broom, her addled brain added up the dots. But all she could feel was the cold and despair as Holly heard the woman scream.

_“Anyone but her....take me! Have mercy, mercy!!!”_

A high, thin cackle filled Holly’s mind, a green flash blinding her to the sight of fifty Dementors trying to feed as she fell past them. The sound of something unimaginably vast rushing like a train deafened Holly before darkness took her.

)(

“Merlin though, over fifty feet, it’s good thing he caught her!”

“Can’t see Professor Dumbledore being too pleased with the Dementors.”

Holly frowned as the voices interrupted her slumber. She tried to shake out the cobwebs from her mind. What was she doing here? Where was here? And why did her head feel like stuffed toy?

The last question was particularly vexing and was not answered when she opened her eyes. Standing over her were...a group of pink blobs. Holly blinked several times, letting her eyes focus on the people around her bed.

Heracles, Ronnie and Hamish were stood around the head of the bed, concern etched across their faces. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team composed the remainder of the throng at the foot of the bed.

“Holly!” Ronnie cried. “How are you?”

“My head feels like a pummelled melon, but other than that, great,” she replied.

Hamish smiled ruefully. “We were seriously worried. Cles was panicking about what he said yesterday.”

“I was not!” Heracles protested, prompting Holly to snort, only to wince as her headache made its presence known. “Besides, we all were.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” George started.

“Just know Oliver was kicking himself about telling you get the Snitch at all costs,” Fred finished.

“Thanks guys.” Holly smiled softly. “Don’t worry about it, Oliver, it wasn’t your fault.” Oliver looked relieved at that. “But what about the game? Who won?” The last she had seen, Cedric had caught the Snitch.

“Well, we didn’t win,” Angelina said painfully.

The Gryffindors parted to let Cedric through. “Sorry Holly, I tried to talk Madam Hooch into a rematch, extenuating circumstances and everything, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” The silver-eyed Hufflepuff seemed saddened by this. “I just wish I’d realised what was happening sooner.”

“We’re glad you saved Holly; don’t beat yourself up about it,” Alicia said kindly.

“You-you caught me?” Holly interrupted, taken aback by the news.

“Yeah, I turned around after I caught the Snitch and saw you just as you fell from your broom,” he replied modestly, shrugging as to tell her she shouldn’t make a big deal of the matter.

“Th-thanks Cedric, thanks for catching me,” Holly smiled.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure you would have done the same.” She felt her cheeks redden at the compliment.

Hamish coughed gently, bringing Holly’s attention to the bundle in his arms.

“Hamish, what’s that?” She asked, her voice rising to meet her sense that not all was as it seemed.

“Well Holly, it’s about your broom.” He seemed unsure how to put what it was into words.

“When you fell it was blown into the Whomping Willow.” Heracles answered her unasked question with all his signature directness.

“We tried to recover it but...” Ronnie herself seemed at a loss.

Holly narrowed her eyes. “Show me.” Better to get it over with.

Hamish lowered the bundle onto her lap. Pulling away the cloth, Holly gasped as she took in the snapped shaft, twisted foot-pedals and broken tail of her beloved Nimbus 2000.

“I’m sorry, Holly.” Hamish’s words washed over her.

“It-it’s alr-ight, did I m-miss anyth-thing else?” she asked, cursing herself for the way her voice trembled as she clutched at the broken pieces of broomstick, wishing them to mend.

“Well, the refugees have arrived,” Heracles said slowly. “I think Professor Dumbledore is going to have them Sorted into different houses.”

“Yeah, there’ll be a few in our dorm Holly!” Ronnie leapt at the change in topic.

Holly nodded mutely, allowing them to chatter about what they had seen and what they might be like. Eventually Madam Pomfrey came to usher them out of the infirmary. Holly, consigned to her bed for the night smiled feebly at their waves, a light fluttery feeling came with Cedric’s farewell. And with that, Holly was left alone with her thoughts, pieces of her Nimbus, and a savagely uncomfortable pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I post while here in Britain. I'm going on holiday in two days!!! Excited is probably the best way to put it. 
> 
> On a more serious note, severely disappointed by the UK's choice to leave the EU. As far as I'm concerned it's a vote based on half-truths and outright lies, the brexiters have no plan and the opposition is tearing itself apart. To me it's also a stab in the back by the over-65s who voted to leave by 68%. However no isn't the time for mourning, it's a time for reorganisation and action. For too long, the young have been pacified by the internet and television into our own narcissistic worlds. You'll probably hear more from me as events progress.


	8. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heracles introduces the new pupils, Lupin discusses extra lessons. The twins give Holly a present. Holly hears something upsetting.

**Holly**

Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let Holly leave for the following week, and Holly didn’t argue, it would be of no use against the stern matron. One thing that was non-negotiable for Holly however, were shattered remnants of her Nimbus 2000. She knew it was silly, but Holly couldn’t bear to part with them. It was like a friend had died and this was all she had left of them.

A stream of visitors kept Holly occupied for the most part. Hagrid arrived with a bunch of what were presumably flowers, but were more akin to cauliflower. The Gryffindor Quidditch team visited, bringing Oliver with them. He said hollowly that he didn’t blame her for not catching the Snitch and they could still win the Cup if Hufflepuff lost to Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor could beat the latter and Slytherin. Holly couldn’t help but feel sorry for the captain, it was his last chance and he had set his hopes on winning the league this year. Ginny Weasley even bought a get well soon card for Holly; she could understand the girl’s furious blushing, the card wouldn’t stop warbling ‘Get Well Soon Hollykins’ unless she put it under the flowers Hagrid had left her.

Naturally Ronnie, Heracles and Hamish came to see her whenever they could, only leaving her bed for meals and sleep themselves.

“It’s brilliant, they’re actually really nice!” Ronnie commented about the refugee students.

“Aye, Professor McGonagall had our dorm expanded to fit them in.”

“I have to say, the way they’re taught is good too.” Heracles brought his clarity to the issue. “I don’t think Professor Dumbledore and their Headman Talit will be combining our classes until next year, it’s too complicated to merge now.”

“Still, you’ll be really pleased to meet them, they have some weird habits, but they’re mostly alright,” Ronnie burst in, prompting Heracles and Hamish to roll their eyes. Ronnie only thought it was weird because she was so used to her own family.

Holly hadn’t told anyone about the Grim though, not even her closest friends. It would frighten Ronnie, cause Hamish to bring up how Gryffindor could still win and Heracles to tut and shake his head. Even now Holly wasn’t sure what it could mean, but that it had appeared shortly before the Dementors’ arrival had to mean something.

The Dementors, that was something else to think about. Holly found it humiliating that she seemed to be the only one collapsing in their presence. Everyone said they felt horrible around them, but she hadn’t heard of any fainting aside from herself.

It was also the fact the Holly knew whose voice she had heard each time. Her mother’s cries for mercy echoed her in every waking thought. Those had been her last words as she tried to protect Holly. Each night Holly would sink into dreams of her mother’s screams; broomsticks flying past as she sank into a pit of cold, clammy, rotten hands, only to be jerked awake by a high, cold cackle followed by a flash of green light.

)(

Monday came as a relief to Holly, the return to the hustle and bustle of school life providing a distraction from her morbid thoughts.

“If Snape’s teaching again I’ll go off sick!” Ronnie proclaimed as they walked the corridor to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“I’ll check,” said Heracles jogging ahead to peek through the door. “It’s alright, Professor Lupin’s back!”

Feeling cheered, they entered the classroom babbling to Professor Lupin about how terrible Snape had been.

“Two rolls of parchment!” Ronnie cried.

“Said we were behind!” Hamish shouted.

“Called Cles a know-it-all! Only I get to say that!” Ronnie yelled.

The rest of the class echoed similar sentiments. After a time, Professor Lupin managed to get them all to sit and calm down.

“I take it my absence was noted,” he said. A note of humour flecked his tone. “I have spoken to Professor Snape, as he was the only teacher on hand during that period. He has acquiesced and you needn’t worry about those two rolls of parchment.”

This started another clamouring of conversation which he struggled to contain.

“Oh no! I’ve already done it!” Heracles moaned.

Eventually the class quietened enough for Professor Lupin to begin the lesson.

Hinkypunks were strange creatures consisting of a ball of wispy fog on a single spindly leg, an equally thin appendage sported a glowing orb similar to that of a glow-worm. They seemed to all intents and purposes simple bog dwellers. However Professor Lupin quickly disabused them of this notion.

“See the lantern in its hand? It uses this to lure travellers away from the safe paths through bogs,” he lectured. “One you’re off the path-well...”

The Hinkypunk made a horrible squelching noise against the glass of the aquarium.

“Before we go any further, could you please note that I’d like you all to summarise what we learnt today, and I’d like to know how the Hinkypunk tricks travellers for next lesson.”

When the bell rang, everyone started packing their things up. Professor Lupin called Holly before she could leave.

“Holly, could you stay behind a minute?” he asked. “Not to worry Ronnie, Holly isn’t in trouble, I’d just like a word.”

Holly patted Ronnie’s arm. “I’ll see you in Charms.” Ronnie joined Hamish and Heracles leaving the room.

Professor Lupin leaned on the front of his desk. From up close Holly could really see how much thinner he had become. His robes hung from his frame and his cheeks had hollowed since she had last seen him.

“I heard about your broom Holly, is there nothing that can be done for it?” he asked kindly.

Holly sighed. “No sir, it was smashed by the Whomping Willow.”

“They planted the tree the year I arrived,” said Professor Lupin. “People used to play a game where they’d try and touch the bark. Professor Dumbledore put a stop to it after one boy nearly lost an eye. I’m not surprised about you broom, hard to see how it would have stood a chance.”

“Did you hear about the Dementors too?” Holly asked, ashamed at how weak she felt around them.

“Yes, I imagine Dumbledore’s refusal to grant them access to the grounds had them riled. I assume they were the reason behind your fall?”

“Why do they affect me so much? Is it because-”

“It has nothing to do with weakness.” Professor Lupin cut her off sharply, seemingly having read her mind. “Dementors are among the most fell creatures of this world. They affect you in particular because there are horrors in your life that your classmates can scarcely imagine, Holly.”

Holly sighed heavily as a ray of winter sun cast the lines in Professor Lupin’s young face into sharp relief. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the increase in grey hairs.

“They infest dark, foul, places, celebrating despair, hopelessness and fear. Even Muggles can sense their presence, though they cannot see them. The smallest doubt, fear or grain of misery will blossom in their presence. Stay too close for too long, and you’ll be swallowed whole; all that will remain of you would be a soulless husk, devoid of any original though and happiness as alien to oneself as being able to breathe underwater,” he explained painfully.

“Azkaban must be horrible,” Holly muttered.

“It is, most inmates go mad in a matter of weeks. It’s the only way the mind knows how to save itself.”

“But there must be a way to fight them,” Holly said desperately. “Or how else would the Ministry be able to control them?”

Professor Lupin snorted. “Control is one way of putting it.” His look softened. “I’m sorry, Holly. Yes there is a spell one can use to repel a Dementor.”

Holly looked up, hope rekindled. “Could you teach me?”

“It is very advanced magic-” Professor Lupin began reluctantly, misgivings written clearly across his face.

“I don’t care; we can’t afford to lose another game!” Holly interrupted, giving Professor Lupin her hardest, most determined glare.

Professor Lupin chuckled. “Well I suppose I can’t change your mind.” Holly shook her head. “It’ll have to wait until after Christmas as I’m quite busy this term, and I’ve not quite recovered.”

“Good to me, professor,” Holly smiled.

“I’ll need to see about getting a suitable substitute, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would take kindly to me smuggling a Dementor onto the grounds,” Professor Lupin said, thinking aloud.

“Thanks professor.”

“Oh, Holly, before you go.” He grabbed a slip of parchment, reaching for a quill. “I’ll write a note explaining your lateness.”

)(

With the prospect of anti-Dementor lessons and despite the possibility of never having to hear her mother’s voice again, Holly returned to the common room before dinner feeling elated. Gryffindor would flatten Ravenclaw in their next match, and Slytherin would follow. She was skipping through the portrait hole when she collided with a group of people she didn’t recognise.

“Oh sorry,” she said, stooping to help pick up dropped sheets of parchment and quills.

“It’s alright, we’re pretty close to the entrance,” an accented voice replied.

Looking up Holly blanched, she’d run straight into a group of the refugees.

“Holly?” Heracles’ voice floated over to her.

“I’m here,” she called, waving to the tangled mess of brown curls that signalled his arrival.

Sidling up to her Heracles snorted. “Don’t tell me you knocked into our new friends.”

She hung her head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“To be honest Heracles, we were standing close to the entrance, not exactly helpful.” Holly’s attention shifted to the speaker, a tall, willowy girl whose dark hair fell in mahogany waves to her shoulders. She looked to about Holly’s age, dark, mirth-filled eyes staring from her narrowed eyelids.

“Holly, this is Handan, Handan, meet Holly.”

Holly was about to offer her hand when Handan glanced perplexedly at Heracles. “Heracles, is this..?”

“Cles?” Holly was getting confused at Handan-no- the entire group of new students’ behaviour.

Before Heracles could answer, they were joined by Hamish and Ronnie who snickered at his expense.

“Cles has decided that ye needed a rumour tae suit ye fame,” Hamish explained in amusement.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I might have slipped out that I was friends with you.”

A cough alerted Holly to the group of refugees, Handan was tapping her foot waiting for her introduction.

“Yeah, I’m-”

 “Show them the scar!” Ronnie cut her off.

Holly sighed; she had grown a fringe precisely so as to hide it. Reluctantly she parted it to reveal the disfiguration. A chorus of gasps followed the revelation.

“So at what point do I stop being a curiosity?” she said dryly.

“Sorry...you were a case study in one of our lessons...” Handan explained, wringing her hands.

Holly rounded on Heracles. “The next time you think about introducing me, feel free to leave out the part involving Voldemort.”

“I-I didn’t mean to...” Heracles tailed off, it was hard to defend oneself whilst on the receiving end of her glares.

“C’mon Holly, let’s go.” Ronnie tugged her hand gently. “See you guys later,” she said as she led Holly up to the dorms.

“Not gonnae lie Cles, I think I’m with Holly on this,” she heard Hamish mutter as they left the stunned group.

Holly fell face-first onto her bed when they entered the third-year girls’ dormitory.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Ronnie consoled as she sat next to Holly, landing with a plumpf to rub her shoulder. “I didn’t think.”

“I know Ronnie; it’s not you I’m bothered about,” Holly replied, turning her head to the side.

“Just don’t get soppy on me now, I’m staying for Christmas.”

Holly’s head shot up from the mattress at the declaration. “What?!”

Ronnie grinned. “Yeah, mum says it’d be better to save the money from the prize draw for something really worthwhile. I reckon that means more Lockhart books.” Holly snorted, Mrs Weasley still thought Lockhart was a model of femininity. “And I think I’d feel bad about leaving you here at Hogwarts.”

“Well, Hogwarts Christmases are the best,” Holly smiled softly.

)(

The news that not only Ronnie, but Hamish and Heracles would be staying for Christmas assuaged Holly’s fears that she would be spending her holiday alone. Over the preceding two weeks before the holiday started Holly began to get to know the new students better.

Handan was often their spokesperson; despite seeming youthful she was the oldest at 15. There was also Adem, a shy boy of twelve who had lost his elder brother to the war, Farsi, a girl Holly’s age whose sparky personality lightened her evenings, and Omar, who didn’t speak much, when he did others listened however, and he usually had the benefit of having thought out his opinions on a particular matter.

However Holly’s good mood was cut short by the announcement of the final Hogsmeade visit before the holidays. The fact that the new students wouldn’t be able to go either did little to alleviate her mood.

Holly ambled gloomily through the corridors; the castle was especially empty at the moment, with all but first and second years remaining in the school. Holly was so absorbed her own gloom she would have walked past the Weasley twins hiding behind a statue of a humpbacked witch had the pair not stepped in front of her.

“Hello Holly,” said Fred.

“You’re looking down,” George added.

“Really, never would have guessed,” she replied curtly.

“Ow, no need to wound us so, my lady,” George cried, feigning injury.

“What is it? I’ve got a corridor to mooch down you know.”

“Well we thought, as the benevolent older brothers of your best friend,” Fred began.

“That you deserved little present from us,” said George, fishing out a piece of folded parchment and handing it to her.

Holly took it, confused. “What is this, a piece of parchment?”

“ ‘A piece of parchment?’ She asks?” Fred scoffed. “This humble scroll is the key to our success.”

“Allow us to explain,” George chuckled. “In our first year, when we were sweet and innocent.” Holly snorted, it was hard to picture time when the twins had ever been innocent. “Alright, a lot less guilty than today. We set off a dungbomb in the fifth floor corridor.”

“Naturally Filch came running,” Fred picked up the tale. “He gave us detention and started listing off how he’d punish us, the rack, nail screws, solitary confinement, you get the idea. Anyway, we noticed a drawer in his cabinet that said ‘Confiscated and dangerous’.”

George coughed, happy to take the reins. “Fred set off another bomb to distract him, and in the confusion I grabbed this.” He pointed to the parchment.

“Did all the trouble help?” Holly asked, wondering where it was all leading.

In answer, Fred pulled out his wand and  tapped the parchment. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

From the point where the tip of Fred’s wand met the parchment lines flowed outwards, branching out to form-

“This is Hogwarts!” Holly gasped. She looked back down next to Fred’s wand.

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors for magical mischief-makers, proudly present the Marauders’ Map_

“These guys are our heroes,” Fred said humbly.

“They could be women,” George interjected. “But either way we learnt so much from them.”

“Here.” Fred pointed to a spot marked _Filch’s Office_. A black dot moved around the space, a nametag beside said: _Mrs Norris._

“Wait, this map shows everyone in the castle?” Holly asked in amazement.

“Exactly,” said George.

“And all the secret passages, handy if you’re in a hurry, want to avoid someone, or get into Hogsmeade,” Fred grinned.

“Now these,” George pointed at several passages. “Filch knows about, best avoid them. This one collapsed a few years back. And the entrance to this one’s under the Whomping Willow.”

“We recommend this one.” Fred gestured to a spot where three dots labelled _Fred Weasley, George Weasley_ and _Holly Potter_ were stood. “Just behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. It comes out in the Honeydukes cellar.”

Holly looked to the real statue; it seemed to wink at her as she did.

George sniffed dramatically. “Those great workers, tirelessly struggling to help us humble pranksters.”

“Before we go Holly, don’t forget to wipe it with _Mischief Managed_. Otherwise anyone can read it,” Fred said, patting her shoulder.

“Don’t you want it back?”

“Think of it as a Christmas present,” George winked.

“Besides, we know the passages, and not having it makes it more fun,” Fred added.

Then they were off, leaving Holly with the Map wondering how to use the one-eyed witch’s passageway. She looked at the Map; her little dot had acquired a wand and was now tapping the statue. A bubble above it said _Dissendium._

Before Holly did anything else however, she remembered Mrs Weasley’s voice.

_Never trust anything unless you can see where it keeps its brain._

Perhaps she should give this to Profess McGonagall, it was certainly what Heracles would do. But then she would know Holly had tried to sneak out of the castle and-

Forget it, said the rebellious part of Holly’s mind, you might as well use it for this at least.

Telling herself she would use it just the once, Holly tapped the statue of the one-eyed witch and said “ _Dissendium!”_

A hole, wide enough for a slim person, opened in the witch’s rump. Holly clambered through, her feet finding a ladder.

“Careful dear, it’s a short drop,” the statue said absently, almost causing Holly to fall.

When she arrived at the bottom Holly was plunged in darkness as the door slid close above her.

“ _Lumos!_ ” she whispered, and the wand light lit a damp, earthy tunnel. “Mischief Managed.” The lines of the map began to fade until Holly was holding a convolutedly folded sheet of parchment. Slipping it into her belt Holly began to walk, occasionally ducking to avoid thick tree roots that breached the tunnel.

Holly was beginning to wonder how long the tunnel could be when she felt the ground begin to rise.

Here we go, she thought, almo-

Holly swore as her head hit something. Rubbing her scalp, Holly looked up to find she was right below wooden flooring: it was a trapdoor. She was about to push it open before the sound of receding footsteps brought her senses.

If someone from Hogwarts saw her they would undoubtedly tell their friends, and soon enough Professor McGonagall would know. Holly was thankful she had taken to carrying the Cloak with her. She pulled it from her satchel and draped it around her.

The cellar was stuffy, bags of sweets lined one wall and the shelves were stocked with large jars of wine gums, chocolates and more. Holly tiptoed up the stairs, pressing herself against the wall as the door opened and an assistant came down the stairs.

“And some more liquorice wands, they’re bleeding us dry.” A voice followed him.

Holly slipped out before the door could close, emerging into the main shop where small groups of pupils clustered around jars of sweets, talking animatedly.

“No, Holly doesn’t like liquorice, I’m sure she always turns her nose up at the stuff.” Holly spun around at the sound of her name, then spun some more as a group of Hufflepuffs bowled around her. Heracles was talking about her.

“Maybe these chocolate chilli newts?” Hamish asked as she stepped into the aisle.

Cockroach cluster?” Ronnie asked, holding up a fistful.

“Ew no,” Holly said as she removed the Cloak.

Ronnie dropped the cluster in surprise. Hamish fell into the shelves, knocking over the jar of Chilli Newts. Heracles jumped a foot into the air.

“Holly how did you?” they asked simultaneously.

“Oh, the Cloak,” she answered, not quite ready to trust them with the Map quite yet, not at least until they had left the shop.

“Why don’t we go to the Three Broomsticks?” Ronnie said, oblivious to the look Heracles was giving Holly.

“Aye, sounds like a plan.”

Leaving Honeydukes, Holly became painfully aware of her friends’ wool cloaks. Snow fell heavily, a few fellow third years were building snowmen. Holly however, was a little more concerned by the fact that she was getting cold very fast.

Ronnie, Heracles and Hamish were wearing their cloaks over warm jumpers and scarves. Holly’s Gryffindor jumper and thick tights by contrast were doing little to mitigate the wind.

“Here, Holly,” Hamish said, taking off his own cloak and passing it to her. “The Three Broomsticks isn’ae far.”

“Th-thanks Hamish,” she smiled, teeth chattering.

“C’mon guys!” Ronnie called ahead of them, she was stamping her feet impatiently.

They entered the pub in a huddle, tripping over a step as they blinked in the warmth from several fires and the heat from bodies. Heracles led them to a table in the corner from where they could watch the entrance for professors that might spot Holly.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” said Hamish, placing a bag of shopping in his place.

He came back later with four bottles of butterbeer, pushing his way past crowded tables.

“So how was Rosmerta?” Heracles snickered.

“Whatever.” Hamish rolled his eyes. “They think I fancy the landlady,” he said to Holly as he passed her a drink.

“It’s because you do,” Ronnie giggled.

Holly sipped her butterbeer. It was the nicest thing she had ever tasted. Warm honey slid down her throat, the heat spreading along her limbs, chasing out the cold.

“So how did ye get into Hogsmeade?” Hamish asked once they had settled, comfortably taking sips of their butterbeers.

Holly grimaced, she would have liked to talk about something else aside the fact she should not have been there. Seeing Hamish’s questioning look however prompted her to tell them about the Map.

“How come they never told me about it?” Ronnie asked indignantly. “I’m their sister!”

“I think you just answered ye question.” Hamish snorted, only to wince at Ronnie’s elbow.

“You ought to be really careful Holly, what if Black found it?” Heracles said worriedly.

“Fred and George said a few have collapsed, so she can’t use them, and Filch knows about most of them too, so I doubt Black’d be stupid enough to use them,” Holly explained, hoping Heracles would drop the subject. “One’s got the Whomping Willow over it- so basically a no-go- but the one I used is in the Honeydukes cellar.”

“Yeah Black can’t go using that, he’d wake up the owners,” Ronnie added.

“Ronnie, Black murdered a street full of people, I doubt she’d hesitate to kill the owners if they tried to stop her,” Heracles argued.

“Aye, but what if Black wants to remain undetected?” Hamish countered.

“All I’m saying,” Heracles sighed dramatically. “Is that Holly should hand in the map when we get back.”

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid and Cornelius Fudge in a flurry of snow and shivering of the patrons as the cold draught swept over them.

“Holly, the Clo-”

But Holly already had the Cloak draped over her by the time Ronnie had started whispering. A bodiless hand tucked her bottle of butterbeer behind it.

_“Mobiliarbus!”_ Heracles whispered as it became apparent they would sit at the table beside theirs. A nearby Christmas tree sneaked over to stand in front of where they sat.

“A small gillywater?” Holly could see a pair of glittering boots through the branches.

“That would be me,” Professor McGonagall said crisply.

“Four pint of mulled mead.”

“Ta, Rosie,” Hagrid said, accompanying the clinks of glass on the table.

“A cherry syrup with rum with little umbrella?”

“That’ll be me,” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

“So you’ll be the vin chaud, Minister?”

“Thank you Rosmerta dear, how are things?” asked Fudge.

“They’d be a damn sight better if you didn’t send Dementors into my pub every night,” she replied huffily. “Keep frightening my patrons.”

“My dear, there is nothing I can do about, not until we catch Sirius Black,” Fudge said, placating as best he could.

“Why would Black come here anyway?” she asked, perplexed.

“Holly Potter,” Fudge replied, glancing around to see no one had heard him. “After what happened at Halloween, then at the Quidditch match, the Dementors are furious. I’ve just spoken to them this morning. Professor Dumbledore won’t let them into the school grounds.”

“I should think not,” Professor McGonagall said sharply. “How on earth are we supposed to teach with those things flying around?”

“Hear hear!” squeaked Professor Flitwick.

“All the same,” demurred Fudge. “They are here to protect you from far worse. We all know what Black’s capable of.”

“I still can’t quite believe it, Minister,” said Madame Rosmerta. “Of all the people to turn to the Dark, Sirius Black was the last I expected.”

“Yeh don’t know the half of it,” Hagrid rumbled.

“What do you mean?”

Professor McGonagall leaned over her drink. “Do you remember who her friend was?”

“Of course, how could I forget,” Madame Rosmerta said with a titter. “Never saw one without the other. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter.”

Holly’s knee jerked, her father had been best friends with a mass murderer?!

“Exactly, Sirius and James, ringleaders of their little gang,” said Professor McGonagall, sipping her drink. “I think only the Weasley twins could surpass the mischief they got up to.”

“You’d have that thought they were brothers! Potter trusted Black implicitly,” Professor Flitwick commented.

“Yes, after they left school and James married Lily, Black was their best woman,” Fudge said dryly. “She was even made Holly’s godmother, though naturally the girl doesn’t know this. Imagine the horror for her. No, better she remains in the dark for this.”

“Because Black was in league with You-Know-Who?” Madame Rosmerta asked, clearly enthralled with the tale.

“Worse,” Fudge continued in a low voice. “It’s not common knowledge that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore had a network of spies; one of them tipped them off that he was looking for them. Of course, You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore thought their best hope lay in the Fidelius Charm.”

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat at Madame Rosmerta’s questioning look. “An immensely powerful spell hiding the location of a place within the soul of a designated Secret Keeper,” he said squeakily. “Unless they willingly divulged the secret, You-Know-Who could have his nose pressed against their living room window and not find them.”

“Dumbledore volunteered himself to be their Secret Keeper, but of course James turned to Black.” Professor McGonagall explained. “For some time Dumbledore had suspected someone in our ranks had turned traitor.”

“He suspected Black?” gasped Madame Rosmerta.

“We don’t know,” Fudge said grimly. “We do know that one week after the Fidelius had been performed, Black had betrayed them to You-Know-Who. She was tired of playing her double agent role, I think.” He shook his head. “She probably thought the Potters would be a worthy sacrifice for him. But of course as we all know, You-Know-Who lost his powers that night, which left Black in something of a pickle. She had revealed her true colours at a time when everyone would be looking for his supporters.”

“Yeh know, I came across her that night,” said Hagrid suddenly. He had been awfully quiet up to this point, content listening. “She were there when I arrived, said she’d ‘eard the news and was seein’ what she could do to ‘elp.

“She asked to hold Holly too, said she was ‘er godmother. ‘Course I said I was on Dumbledore’s orders when she insisted.” Holly could hear some emotion begin to cloud his voice. “So she offers me ‘er motorcycle. I shoulda known summin’ was up when she did that, Black loved that bike.”

“It would have been too easy to track,” Fudge added. “She had to hide so she gave you the bike to distract.”

“Yeh, but if I’da known I woulda done more than jus’ say thanks! I woulda ruddy killed the ruddy traitor an’ all, ripped ‘er limb from limb!” Hagrid roared. “But no, I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!”

“Hagrid please!” Professor McGonagall cried after he had knocked her gillywater.

“But what if I’d given Holly to ‘er? She’da dumped ‘er out in the sea!”

Silence followed the proclamation. Silence until Madame Rosmerta piped up.

“But she didn’t get away, the Ministry caught her the next day.”

Fudge sighed. “If only we had. It was Petra Pettigrew that found her in the end. Maddened by grief and knowing Black had been the Potters’ Secret Keeper.”

“The same Pettigrew as the one that tailed Potter and Black at school?”

“Yes Rosmerta,” said Professor McGonagall. “She was never quite in their league of course. You can imagine how terrible I feel for how sharp I had been with her..” Professor McGonagall sounded as if she was getting a cold.

“There there, Minerva,” Fudge said soothingly, patting her arm. “She died a hero’s death. Muggle eyewitnesses- whom we obliviated afterwards- told us she cornered Black. Sobbing, asking why she did what she did.”

“Stupid girl,” muttered Professor McGonagall. “She was no dueller.”

“Quite, when Pettigrew tried to fight her Black blasted away half the street with Pettigrew.” Fudge pressed on. “We sent her mother Pettigrew’s Order of Merlin and her finger, the largest part we could find of her so she had something to bury. And there you have it, Rosmerta,” He finished thickly.

“Is it true she’s mad, Minister?” Madame Rosmerta asked timidly.

“I wish it were true Rosmerta my dear, if only,” he sighed. “The last time I went there before she broke out she seemed quite normal, quite the difference from when she had laughed madly as she was taken away. She even asked for my copy of the Prophet, said she missed the crossword. It was so unnerving how little effect the Dementors had on Black, she spoke quite rationally.”

“But now she’s out, she’ll try to get back to You-Know-Who?”

“Eventually, I suppose,” Fudge said slowly. “You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing, but to have his most powerful servant...I dread to think. What we do know is that for the time being she’s fixated on Holly Potter. The Dementors tell me before she broke out she kept saying “She’s at Hogwarts.””

There was the sound of glasses chinking.

“You know Cornelius, if you’re eating at the castle tonight we had best be going.” Professor McGonagall stood.

The group made their way outside, their exit accompanied by another flurry of cold air.

Holly slipped off the Cloak to find Ronnie, Hamish and Heracles staring at her anxiously.

“I should head back too, thanks for the cloak Hamish,” she said, standing.

“Holly, are you sure you’re alright?” Ronnie asked.

“I’ll be fine. See you back in the common room,” she replied firmly before leaving the table.

)(

Holly clambered from out of the one-eyed witch’s hump. The corridor was empty save for Peeves “adjusting” some candles on the far end. Holly crept around the corner to avoid him, pulling out the Map as she did.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” she said softly, bringing out the Map. Handan and the rest of the refugees were still in the common room along with the first and second years. Holly saw her friends’ dots had just appeared at the edge of the Map, appearing as their real life counterparts entered the grounds.


	9. Ronnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronnie tries to cheer up Holly, aiding Hagrid for an important case. The refugees seem to enjoy their first Christmas at Hogwarts and the gang meet Headman Talit. Holly receives an anonymous present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaarrrrgh why Olly? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!!!!!........................Just finished season 5 of Game of Thrones. I know I shouldn't be surprised after reading the books, but still, I was starting to like the brat. In other news I'm trying my best to ignore the the tsunami that is A level results day, I mean it could only determine which university I attend! I did have a nightmare, so that can't be a good thing, but all in all, I'd say I'm doing pretty good not panicking. Nothing I can do to change it now after all. 
> 
> I've recently gotten into the DC animated universe, it seems a lot more thought-out than the current extended one going through cinemas. Trouble is I can't find a page listing the films and series in chronological order :( guess I'll figure it out for myself. 
> 
> And only 6 days until my significant other returns from her holiday, so woo there.

**Ronnie**

Holly seemed to go through the morning in a trance, barely speaking or making any effort to communicate with anyone. Not even Hamish’s usual antics could lift her spirits, leaving him spattered with porridge to no avail.

Taking Heracles to the side, Ronnie decided to do something about it.

“She needs distracting with something,” she said to him. “A mystery, or some sort of event that will make her want to help someone.”

“What about Hagrid, we haven’t seen him in a while now,” Heracles suggested.

“As long as I don’t have to eat any of his cakes,” Ronnie bargained.

“Deal, we’ll stock up on some food now, though do try to be polite with the rockcakes.”

She snorted, when was she ever not polite?

“Most of the time,” Heracles answered her own question. “Your face is easy to read.”

Ronnie maintained Heracles had learnt how to read minds in one of his other classes.

Soon enough they were on their way down to Hagrid’s, Hamish leading the way as he skipped and pranced. Ronnie glanced at Holly, she still ignored Hamish but she did look more like her usual self.

“Oh yeh’ve ‘eard!” he cried, throwing himself on the quartet. With a struggle they managed to get him to sit in his customary chair. Ronnie put the kettle on, grabbing five mugs for the brew.

“Hagrid what is it?” Holly asked with concern, already distracted from her own problem.

Heracles picked up an official letter. Brows furrowed, he began to read.

“Dear Mr Hagrid, further to our inquiry into the behaviour of one hippogriff Buckbeak we have accepted Professor Dumbledore’s assurances that you bear no individual responsibility-”

“Oh that’s not so bad, Hagrid,” Ronnie interrupted.

Heracles huffed before continuing. “However we have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Malfoy, and thus this matter will be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. We expect you in its London headquarters with the beast in question on 20th April for its trial at 10 o’clock. In the meantime we expect the creature to be tethered in isolation. Yours in fellowship...a list of the school governors...” Heracles looked up from the letter. “Well this is just terrible.”

“It’s alright Hagrid, I’m sure they won’t believe Buckbeak was to blame,” Ronnie said, patting his knee.

“And we can help ye,” piped up Hamish as he took the kettle off the fire and poured everyone a mug.

“Indeed, nothing I’ve read bars you from having help to research your defence.”

“Oh, wha’ would I do wi’out you lot, yer all great,” Hagrid sobbed. “But the committee’s got it in fer interestin’ creatures like Beaky.” He broke down into another fit.

Hamish placed his tea in front of him. “Sorry, it’s jus’ all the stress yeh know. Beaky goin’ on trial, my lessons being rubbish an’ all. Don’t get me started on them Dementors, remind me o’ my time in Azkaban every time I go ter the Three Broomsticks fer a drink.”

They vehemently defended his lessons, even though flobberworms were the furthest from interesting.

“Hagrid, I’ve got a cousin who’s really in to magical creatures,” Hamish said looking thoughtful. “I could always ask him to give ye a hand with lessons and the like, ye know, planning and things.”

Hagrid seemed to break out of a tear-filled stupor. “Really?!”

“Really,” Hamish confirmed. “I could owl him tonight.”

“Don’t worry Hagrid, we’ve got you sorted,” Holly smiled.

“Oh come ‘ere you lot!” he said, embracing them in what Ronnie assumed was meant to be a hug but felt more like vice crushing her ribs.

They left Hagrid’s hut feeling rather less useless than previously. Holly had her grim look of determination and suggested in a voice that brooked no argument that they were going to the library.

Once back inside however she seemed thrown off.

“Where is everyone?”

“It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” Ronnie asked. “Just us and a few others.”

“Never mind, let’s just go save Buckbeak.” Her grim determination had returned.

)(

“Hmm, what about this? A hippogriff attacked someone and...oh never mind, they got the chop,” Hamish thought aloud.

The four were occupying one of the tables in the library, various piles of books blocking them from view. Ronnie was beginning to think they wouldn’t be able to find anything, the pile of read and useless books was growing increasingly large, dwarfing the one-book pile of potentially useful books.

“Ooo, this one wasn’t killed,” she read before sighing, “Because it was a manticore. No one was brave enough to get near it so they let if off.”

Heracles snorted. “Hippogriff lands atop roof...they didn’t execute it, no....some Muggle shot it instead…”

“I can’t find anything useful,” Holly fumed, tossing another book on the useless pile, prompting a wince from Heracles.

“What’s going on?” Farsi’s head popped over a pile of books, her brown eyes twinkling in their peculiar way.

“Oh hey Farsi,” smiled Hamish. “Just a wee bit of research fer Hagrid.”

“His hippogriff, Buckbeak, is being tried for attacking Malfoy,” Heracles added helpfully.

“Which is total bullshit by the way, Malfoy provoked him!” Ronnie said firmly, causing Farsi’s head to turn to her.

Ronnie felt her ears redden, she always put her foot in it.

_And now Farsi thinks I’m aggressive, which I’m not, but Malfoy totally deserved it._

Ronnie was so caught up in her thoughts she almost failed to catch the last threads of conversation.

“Well good luck with it guys, hope you find a good, precedent? Is that how you say it? Good luck.”

“Thanks Farsi, see you later,” Holly replied.

“Bye guys,” she said, turning to leave. “Bye Ronnie.”

“Oh er what? Bye Fa-” But she had already gone.

Ronnie picked up another book. Seeing Hamish and Holly enjoying a giggle she glared at them. Heracles merely passed her a knowing glance.

After several more minutes of reading, the pile of potential use had three books on it, and Heracles called it a night. “I’ll have another look tomorrow, but for now I say we read what we have.”

)(

Ronnie woke up every Christmas like she always did, the need for three hours extra sleep each morning forgotten in a wave of excitement. Quick as a flash she was in her pyjamas and throwing a pillow at Holly’s head.

She woke with a faltering “Guurgh?”

“Christmas!” she said gleefully before leading the charge down to the common room.

Thanks to her unerring ability to ignore her body’s cries of “five more minutes” they were the first down. Only after a few moments did the youngest refugees stumble out, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Adem plopped into the sofa by them, his teddy clutched to his breast.

“Alright, Adem?” she asked. The boy jumped a full foot in the air. “Oops sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She got up from where she had been sitting, leaving Holly to find their presents.

“Would you like some chocolate?” she offered a piece. He shook his head. “Sure? It’s really nice.”

“Adem doesn’t like sweet things before breakfast.” It was Ronnie’s turn to jump as Farsi plopped beside him. Farsi was often seen as his older sister by the way she kept an eye on him.

“Why’s that?” Ronnie whispered.

“His father didn’t let him. It’s a way to remember him,” she replied.

“Got them,” Holly grunted, dumping some of Ronnie’s presents in her lap.

“Brilliant,” Ronnie grinned and began tearing into the first one, a small little thing which turned out to be a snowglobe of a Quidditch match from Charlie.

Soon enough they were joined by Heracles, Hamish and the rest of her siblings. And shortly after that everyone was wearing their Weasley jumper, Fred and George likely having mixed up theirs.

“So what is the whole Christmas thing?” asked Handan.

“Well originally it is believed to have been pagan festival marking the height of winter,” Heracles began. “Christianity appropriated to help spread their religion’s popularity.”

“Though of course what with us being wizards, we prefer the former reason,” Priscilla added.

“And the jumpers?” Omar asked, glancing around at each of them wearing one.

“That’s just mum’s knitting, its tradition,” Ronnie replied, a few crumbs of mince pies spilling out.

“Surprised you’re wearing yours, Pris,” said Fred.

“We thought you didn’t like it,” George smirked.

“Thank Merlin you chose to wear it or we’d never have known it was you,” said Fred, earning him a glare from Priscilla and laughter from everyone else.

“See how we wear ours,” George said, as if presenting how to wear clothes. “Now you all know we’re Gred and Forge.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes at the old joke. “So can I open my presents now?”

“Yes Ronnie,” Heracles sighed dramatically.

She began tearing into the wrapping once more. In a very short space of time, paper was scattered around the common room. Ronnie was extremely pleased with her haul; she had received a Chudley Cannons album from Holly, a hat that bit anyone who wasn’t Ronnie that tried to wear it from Hamish, and a book from Heracles.

“Thanks guys,” she smiled, popping on her hat, it purred softly. “Not so sure about the hat, Hamish.”

“Well, ye always complain about losing stuff.”

Ronnie crossed her fingers and tucked them under her leg as Holly began unwrapping her presents.

“Oh Ronnie, it’s brilliant,” Holly hugged her fiercely, hand clutched around the miniature chessboard she had bought her.

“But I thought you didn’t like chess that much?” Heracles questioned.

“Yeah well, it’s still pretty cool,” Holly replied. “Anyway, Ronnie did say she’d teach me.”

“I’m right here you know,” she grunted.

“Does anyone mind if I bring Crookshanks down?” Heracles asked, already halfway back up the stairs.

Ronnie was alone in saying they did, yet this only caused Heracles to carry on up to the boy’ dormitories to fetch the damned thing.

Hamish was part way through opening a Quidditch globe of his own when Ronnie spotted the long and thin present behind the tree.

“Woah, who’s is that?” she asked. “Looks like someone’s got a broom.”

Pushing through mounds of wrapping paper, Ronnie brought the present to rest on the table in the centre of the common room. A small note read: _To Holly, with love._

“Who’s it for?” Holly asked.

“You,” Ronnie replied, offering her the present.

With an air of reverent awe, the pair sat on the sofa, neither willing to begin the delicate procedure. After a few moments Holly clearly decided enough was enough and the present was not a precious jewel. She untied the strings and pulled the paper to reveal-

“A Firebolt?!” George exclaimed.

“Who sent it?” Fred gasped.

“I....don’t know,” Holly answered, taken aback being quite possibly the best term to use in the situation.

“My word, is that a Firebolt?!” Priscilla asked as she walked over, eyebrows shooting upwards and colliding with her fringe.

“Well, from the way it has the word Firebolt carved and marked with gold into its handle,” Hamish said in his most sarcastic brogue. “I’d say it looks like a Moontrimmer.”

“Holly?” Heracles asked tentatively, Crookshanks cradled in his arms.

“I said we don’t need that cat!” Ronnie burst, a hand moving to her pocket where she felt Scabbers sleeping comfortably.

“All I wanted to ask was who sent it?”

“Why?” Ronnie asked, suddenly feeling rather defensive.

“Well it is rather convenient that Holly loses her broom only to be sent a better replacement by an anonymous donor,” he reasoned.

“Oh leave it Heracles,” Fred warned.

“Just enjoy this moment,” George finished.

Before anyone could say anything else however, Crookshanks leapt from Heracles’ arms at Ronnie’s pocket.

_How come he always knows where Scabbers’ is?!_

“GET HIM OUT!”she yelled, scrambling to get away from his claws.

All hell broke loose. Ronnie vaulted over the sofa, bowling into Hamish who knocked over a chair in his fall, tripping Fred and George as they attempted to catch Crookshanks, crashing into a heap with Priscilla. Farsi was laughing loudly as Heracles joined the chase with Holly, stumbling and cursing their way around the furniture before finally tripping into the Christmas tree.

It swayed and looked as if it might recover. Handan cried out as she smothered in a shower of pine needles and baubles.

Eventually the common returned to some semblance of order. Hamish, Fred and George, bruised and feeling rather embarrassed, monopolised the potof ointment, and Heracles and Holly were apologising profusely to Handan as Priscilla carried Crookshanks back up to the boys’ dorms.

Finally came the time for lunch and Priscilla led the way down to the great hall. Professor Dumbledore was already seated at the head of the Gryffindor table; he greeted them warmly.

“Merry Christmas to you all, I trust you have all opened your presents,” he said, eyes twinkling as if he knew about the incident with Crookshanks. “Because there are so few of us, I thought it best we simply sit at one table today.”

The rest of the teachers were seated evenly down the table, an empty plate before them. Filch was wearing something that looked like a moth-eaten carpet, though Hamish assured Ronnie it was a fancy jacket.

They sat side by side at one end of the table. In the end, the Weasleys, Hamish and Holly were joined by the refugees and the odd student whose parents were away for Christmas.

Headman Talit sat by Handan, asking her how things were going for them.

“Great, sir,” she answered in English for the benefit of all.

“Excellent,” he smiled.

It had to be said, but Headman Talit was an unusual teacher. His hair was largely gone except for a ring of grey around his ears, and unlike Professor Dumbledore’s flowing beard, Talit’s was a short goatee. And whereas Hogwarts professors wore robes, Headman Talit opted for a sharp suit Heracles said was like that of a Muggle, aside from the turquoise cloak attached by a gold chain.

His staff, a gnarled branch worn smooth by years of use, lay on the bench behind them.

“And how are you finding my students?” he asked them.

Ronnie was thankful Priscilla was too busy speaking with Penelope Clearwater to notice.

“Fascinating, if you don’t mind the term sir,” Heracles saved them from answering. “It’s been so interesting to learn about another culture from people rather than books.”

“Oh yeah,” Ronnie said. “Nice to have a change from the “normal” lot.” She just hoped that didn’t sound too pretentious.

“And what about you Miss Potter?” Holly jumped as Headman Talit addressed her. “I daresay you have enjoyed meeting new people.”

“Hmm, yeah, I mean-totally,” Holly was doing her best impression of a rabbit caught in the headlights.

Headman Talit chuckled. “Haha, never fear child, I only asked as you seemed so far from us, and Professor Dumbledore looks ready to speak.”

“Quite so, Raash,” Professor Dumbledore commented, eyes twinkling. “Though it was only to say that seeing as we all appear to be here, we may as well commence the meal.”

With that, platters or roast potatoes, brussel sprouts and chicken. Ronnie’s eye lit up with enthusiasm as she grabbed the nearest platter. A pile of her favourite food before her, Ronnie began to tuck in.

“Severus, cracker?” Professor Dumbledore asked jovially. Professor Snape gave him a withering glance before picking up his end of the cracker, clearly he still hadn’t gotten over the boggart incident.

A loud bang and confetti streamers left Professor Dumbledore wearing a gaudy red and green hat, a small Father Christmas whizzing around on a broomstick.

The Arab contingent sat there speechless, awestruck by the display.

“Oh of course,” Professor Dumbledore beamed. “We pull crackers here at Christmas, you should find them next to your plates.”

Adem picked up his cracker and offered the end to Farsi, who gladly took it and pulled. She was soon wearing a hat with antlers, grinning about the experience.

Ronnie found herself sharing a cracker with Headman Talit, who nearly fell off his bench when it went off.

“Careful, sir,” Handan joked.

He recovered, though Ronnie knew she would always remember the look of surprise etched on his face as he tumbled.

It was as Holly was pulling a cracker with Omar that the doors to the great hall opened and in stepped Professor Trelawney. Clad in her typical shawl, her eyes magnified to a large size, Ronnie got the distinct impression she had a few sherries.

“Ah Sybil, how good of you to join us,” Professor Dumbledore beamed. “Take a seat.”

“As I gazed into my crystal ball this morning, I too was amazed to find myself venturing into the school below,” she said airily. “But who am I to ignore the promptings of fate; and so here I am.”

“And a good thing too, or you might have missed our excellent feast,” Professor Dumbledore replied, nonplussed by her latest “revelation”. “Let me draw you up a chair.” And so he did, a nice plush chair beside Professor McGonagall, who rolled her eyes in irritation.

Her eyes scanned the room, as if searching for someone. “But pray, where is Professor Lupin?”

“Surely, Sybil, your all-seeing eye knew he would not be here? He is quite ill.” The ire in Professor McGonagall’s voice could not be made plainer.

“I often act as if I am not All-Seeing, Minerva.” Professor Trelawney’s voice seemed to lose its mysticism. “So as not to frighten others. Indeed, Professor Lupin ran when I offered to read his palm.”

“Imagine that,” Holly whispered. Ronnie snorted quietly.

“I fear our dear Professor Lupin is not long for this world,” she said dramatically, spilling a tureen of tripe that quickly vanished.

“I’m sure he is no immediate danger,” Professor Dumbledore said cheerily. “After all you did brew his potion, did you not, Severus?”

“I did, Headmaster,” Snape replied in a drawl.

“Derek, have you tried these mushrooms? They are delightful,” Professor Dumbledore offered a platter to a small Hufflepuff who went pale as he found the headmaster’s attention on him.

The conversation soon returned to normality, students asking each other about presents, and teachers comparing plans for the new term. However, Ronnie couldn’t help but notice the look passed between Headman Talit and Professor Dumbledore; they seemed to include Professor Trelawney in their silent conversation.

Later Ronnie was teaching Farsi chess whilst Holly sat with Adem, examining every inch of her new Firebolt. She had her broom servicing kit out, but the lack of bent twigs of unsmoothed handle meant they had been relegated to simply admiring it. That was until Heracles came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Heracles made a beeline for his usual table.

“So that’s it, Potter,” she said, their heads jerking up. “And you don’t know who sent it to you?”

“No, professor,” Holly replied.

“May I?”

She picked it up, twisting and hefting it in her hands.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take this, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said sharply.

“But professor!” Ronnie jumped up, scattering chess pieces.

“It will need to be checked for jinxes, of course,” she said crisply, the stern look she sent Ronnie’s way more than enough to force her back into her seat. “I’m no expert, but I think Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will have to strip it down-”

“Strip it down?!” Ronnie knew it, madness!

“It won’t take more than a few weeks at most, you’ll get it back when we’re sure it’s jinx-free,” she explained curtly.

“But there’s nothing wrong with it!” Holly protested.

“You can’t know that, Potter,” Professor McGonagall reprimanded sharply. “You have no idea who sent it to you; therefore we must assume a hostile intent.”

Turning on her heel, Professor McGonagall carried out the Firebolt through the portrait hole. Holly was still clutching her tin of broom polish.

Heracles was reading a book, or at least pretending to.

“Why did you tell Professor McGonagall about it?!” Ronnie roared. She just couldn’t understand why Heracles could be so selfish sometimes. Couldn’t he see how a broom like that would help Gryffindor win the Quidditch cup?

“Because...”Heracles seemed at a loss as he put down his book. “Sirius Black could have sent it!” He stood, face pink with anger. “I did it to help keep Holly safe!” he shouted defiantly, before storming out of the room to the boys’ dorms.

A little sick feeling landed in Ronnie’s stomach. She had just yelled at one of her best friends who had only been trying to keep their best friend safe.


	10. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly learns a new skill. There's potential for Heracles and Ronnie, and Scabbers disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two weeks before uni and I have half a hundred forms to fill out. Thankfully I know who's going to be on my course, the wonders of facebook.

**Holly**

The Christmas holidays ended and the rest of Hogwarts’ pupils returned, though the cold remained and Holly and her friends would rush from one warm classroom to the next in a bid to reduce their time in the cold, draughty corridors. It would have been like her previous years, but for the fact that Heracles and Ronnie refused to talk to each other.

Instead of their usual mealtime chatter, meals were tense, narrated by the occasional “Holly, can you ask Ronnie to pass the potatoes before she eats them all?” or “Tell Heracles that he can shove off.”

While Holly did feel annoyed that Heracles had gone behind her back, she felt more frustration at her friends’ unwillingness to agree on anything. Heracles was adamant that he had done the right thing, Ronnie that he had ruined Gryffindor and Holly’s chances of a Quidditch win, and Hamish thought that whilst it was for the best, the feud was doing no one any favours.

Oliver sought her out the first moment he could, approaching her with purpose in the common room one evening.

“Holly,” he said in greeting. “I’ve spent the holiday devising tactics for our game against Ravenclaw. Have you found yourself a new broom yet?”

“Well, I got a Firebolt for Christmas,” she replied.

“A Firebolt?!” Oliver exclaimed.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Oliver,” Ronnie sighed. “Heracles decided Black might’ve bought it and jinxed it for Holly. McGonagall’s taken it. They’re gonna strip it down.”

“I-Holly, we need that broom!” He seemed to share Ronnie’s opinion that stripping down a broom was tantamount to treason. “I’ll go speak to McGonagall - make her see sense - a Firebolt, wow! She wants Gryffindor to win as much as the rest of us!”

With that he stormed out of the common room, mission assigned.

Lessons the following day were largely uneventful, though the large bonfire Hagrid had built was a pleasant reprieve from the cold January air. The time was spent discussing the habits and properties of the fire salamanders crawling on the hot logs.

After Defence Against the Dark Arts, Holly reminded Professor Lupin of their Anti-Dementor sessions.

“Ah, quite right, Holly,” he said as the rest of the class filed out. “I was thinking perhaps this Friday, 8’o’clock?”

“Friday 8’o’clock,” she agreed.

“Still looking peaky, isn’t he?” Ronnie commented as they made their way for Divination.

A loud “guh” interrupted them as Heracles pushed past them.

“What?” Ronnie demanded. “Go on if it’s so obvious.”

“I would, but it hardly seems worth it for someone who can’t stick their head out of their arse,” Heracles shot back.

“Oh will ye jus’ leave it already,” Hamish moaned. “Jus’ get over it, the broom’s gonnae be fine and next time jus’ explain yer worries!” He strode off to Ancient Runes, Heracles following in his footsteps.

“What’s his problem?” Ronnie asked, unaware of Holly’s wish to tell her friends the same.

On Friday evening Holly made her way to Professor Lupin’s office for her first Anti-Dementor session. She knocked on the door twice.

“Come in,” said Professor Lupin’s voice. She entered to find him sitting behind his desk, a stack of marked essays from fourth years to one side as he worked on a diagram of something. “Ah Holly, glad you could make it. Please excuse the mess; teaching is somewhat harder than I had anticipated.”

“You’re the best teacher I’ve had, sir,” said Holly, two years of incompetence making her appreciate someone who knew what they were teaching.

“Thank you,” Professor Lupin smiled. “Though I sometimes wonder why Professor Dumbledore refuses to hire a person with experience of the classroom, rather than myself. These lesson plans are proving to be tricky.”

His statement was not helped by his pallor. If anything Professor Lupin seemed drained, as if exhausted by his illness.

“All the same, I’m sure it can wait til after our lesson.” He put down his quill. “I hope you aren’t prone to nausea?”

“No professor,” Holly replied, and, feeling emboldened. “I play Quidditch.”

“Quite so,” Professor Lupin folded up the parchment before showing Holly the way out. “I have found a boggart in the staffroom and told Mr Filch I have need of it. Unless he has forgotten it should still be in a chest.”

“A boggart, professor?” Holly asked.

“Yes Holly; I couldn’t ask you to practice with a real Dementor, and a dummy would not have the right effect,” he explained, levitating a large chest from under the spiral staircase that led to his office behind the classroom. “When the boggart sees you it will take the form of a Dementor, mildly replicating the conditions of you having to face one in reality.”

Holly felt a little nervous now. “What if I can’t do it?” she asked, meaning “What happens when I fail with a fake one?”

“A question I shall answer in time,” Professor Lupin sat on the chest. “Because this is very advanced magic, far beyond OWLs. I do not want you to embark on these sessions lightly.”

“No, I have to do this,” Holly protested, she couldn’t afford to lose Gryffindor another match.

“Alright,” he said calmly. “The spell is a Patronus Charm, it creates a barrier between you and a Dementor, suffused with positive energy that hurts them.”

An image of a Hagrid-like creature standing over Holly popped into her head.

“But to work,” he continued. “You have to focus on a very happy memory to fuel it; if you lose concentration the Patronus will fail.” Holly grimaced at the possible outcome after the Hagrid-creature disappeared. “Can you find a happy memory?”

“Yes sir,” she replied, searching through her mind for something suitable.

Granted there weren’t many in her life at this point; her time living with the Dursleys was a miserable haze. Perhaps the day she found out she was a witch? Or winning the house cup in her first year?

“Have you found something?”

“Yes.”

“Good, the incantation is Expecto Patronum.”

“Expecto Patronub-no, Patronum,” she repeated softly.

“We’ll give it a go without the boggart for now,” said Professor Lupin, whipping his wand out from his robes. “Focusing on that happy memory, try to conjure a Patronus.”

Holly scrunched her eyes shut, the image of Gryffindor cheering after winning the house cup pushed firmly to the front of her mind. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_ For a moment, nothing happened, then Holly felt a whoosh as something flew from the end of her wand.

She opened her eyes to see white mist floating slowly to the ground. Professor Lupin looked shocked.

“Well done Holly, well done. Not many witches or wizards could have done that on their first try,” he applauded.

“Is it always so...” Holly petered out.

“A powerful person can make a full-bodied Patronus, yes, but even a non-corporeal Patronus is useful,” he answered. “Let’s try it with our boggart.”

“I’m ready.”

Professor Lupin flicked his wand towards the chest, the lock clicked, and a Dementor surged forth. A cold washed over Holly, causing her fingers to shake. She gripped her wand more forcefully, steadying her hand.

Concentrating on the memory, Holly spoke. _“Expecto Patronum!”_

Nothing happened, causing Holly to panic. She felt as if she were submerged in icy water, struggling to get to the surface.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

That was when she heard it, a man shouting.

“Lily, take Holly, he’s found us!”

“James-”

“No, I’ll hold him off!”

The sound of a door crashing open was followed by a high, thin cackle.

A flash of green.

“No, not Holly!”

“Holly, Holly, Holly!” Holly awoke in her back her head propped up by a pillow.

“I fainted didn’t I?” Holly groaned to Professor Lupin’s relieved expression.

“I’m afraid so,” he replied before reaching into his pocket. “Here, finest Honeydukes chocolate.”

She say up as she took a bite, the chocolate warming her insides. “I heard a man’s voice this time.”

Holly was chewing too intently to notice Professor Lupin blanch. “You heard James?”

“I-did you know my parents?”

“Yes,” Lupin replied after a short pause. “As a matter of interest, what was the memory you chose?”

“Winning the house cup in my first year,” she replied.

“Well it may be happy, but as I think you’d agree it probably wasn’t strong enough,” he commented. “Why don’t you try and find another memory, and we’ll try again next week?”

No!” Holly leapt to her feet. “I can do it, I know I can!”

“Only if you’re sure,” Professor Lupin cautioned. She answered with a determined glare.

The Boggart-Dementor rose once more from the chest, but this time Holly was ready. The ringing began in her ears; distantly she could hear her mother crying out, the familiar cold mist started working its way through her ears. She lifted her wand in its face and shouted.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

This time her wand produced a solid glowing white shield, spilling forth to form a barrier between her and the Boggart-Dementor. Holly yelled ecstatically, the ringing in her ears diminished, and her mother’s cries faded away.

Buoyed by her success, Holly advanced on it, pushing the Boggart-Dementor into retreat, forcing it closer back to the chest.

Professor Lupin held open the lid as Holly used her Patronus to shove it into its prison. One satisfying click later and the Boggart rattled in the chest.

Professor Lupin, however, had an expression of worry etched on his face.

“Holly, take a seat,” he said, hurrying to pass her a chair.

“Professor?” Holly asked, suddenly feeling quite faint. She sat heavily to find Professor Lupin passing her a handkerchief. A drop of blood appeared on it. Taken with a sudden realisation, Holly dabbed at her nose, the handkerchief coming away with a smear of blood.

“Just sit here,” Professor Lupin told her. “We’ll wait for it to bleed out; if it gets worse we can visit Madam Pomfrey.” He pulled out a chair to sit beside her. “However, I must admit myself very impressed by the progress you’ve made tonight. That you produced anything at all was a surprise, but to defeat a Dementor, even a boggart-Dementor - well, to be frank, it was incredible.”

Holly felt her cheeks warm. “Th-thank you sir,” she said between dabs of the handkerchief. “I think it’s stopped.”

“Eat some chocolate,” he said, nodding. “I think we’ll call it a night, Holly; you’ve made great progress, but I fear that last try was a little taxing for you. Best not tire you out, you still have to make it back to your dorm before curfew.”

Holly was almost tempted to argue against it, but a glance at her bloody handkerchief suggested otherwise. “Thank you, professor.” She took a bite out of the chocolate.

She returned to the common room to find Ronnie grinning wildly.

“What is it?” Holly asked, bemused at her friend’s little jig.

“Your broom’s been returned,” Farsi answered from the sofa.

On the table Holly’s Firebolt lay in pristine condition, not a twig misplaced.

“See, I told you Heracles, nothing wrong with it,” Ronnie gloated.

“Yes, well better safe than sorry,” Heracles replied reproachfully.

Holly placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you had good reasons. And it doesn’t matter anyway, with it we can smash Ravenclaw.”

Hamish joined them by flumping into the sofa, a moan escaping his lips.

“You ok, Hamish?” Farsi prodded the prone boy.

“I’d say yes,” Heracles chuckled. “He forgot an Ancient Runes essay, and did a hash job handing it in.”

Hamish rolled over, revealing a pained expression. “How did ye guess?”

“You’ve got ink on your hands, and your uniform is crumpled in the way harried people pull at things when they’re stressed,” Heracles said, as if it was completely obvious.

“Hey Holly, do you want me to take the Firebolt up to our dorm?” Ronnie asked excitedly.

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ve got to tell Oliver anyway.”

Holly had just told Oliver about her Firebolt’s return, for which he was ecstatic, when a yell came from the girls’ dorms. Ronnie came running down the steps, her duvet clutched in her fist.

“Look!” she cried to Heracles, rushing to him. “LOOK!”

“Ronnie-what?” Heracles said, clearly taken aback.

“Blood!” she yelled.

Holly gasped on seeing red spots on the covers.

“Ronnie, I’m sorry,” Heracles began, but Ronnie was having none of it.

“Why can’t you control your bloody pet?!”

“It’s just a cat, Ronnie!” he shot back. “It’s part of his nature!”

“Oh, I give up!” Hamish yelled, storming up the steps to the boys’ dormitories.

The common room erupted into shouting, the majority in an effort to calm the two. Fred and George joked about how Scabbers was dying anyway, Oliver wanted peace and quiet for him to devise some Quidditch stratagems, Priscilla bellowed for order and Ronnie and Heracles continued resolutely shouting in each others’ faces.

In the midst of the ruckus Holly sat herself beside Farsi. The refugees caught in the middle looked scared, amused and annoyed. Farsi had her arm protectively around Adem.

“I’m sorry about this, they normally get on,” she apologised.

“It’s ok, we’re just used to more subdued common rooms,” Farsi smiled gently. “I guess that ended with the war though.”

Holly felt a twinge of guilt at that, she sometimes forgot Farsi and her friends had been through a lot. The shamed must have showed on her face however, for Farsi took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Don’t worry, I think we’re all just happy that we safe here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I suppose I feel guilty about your welcome though; you guys went through a lot only to land at a time like this. We’re not exactly showing you our best side.”

“I guess you’re right,” Farsi chuckled.

Eventually the arguments subsided, Ronnie left for bed, and Heracles stalked to the boys’ dorms. Holly realised she hadn’t spoken to Hamish after he’d come back, eliciting a sigh. She spent the remainder of the evening playing Exploding Snap and talking with Farsi, Adem and Omar. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet joined them with Handan, and the group stayed up late watching the fires.

Despite her friends’ most recent disagreement, Holly felt excitement at the prospect of practice with her Firebolt. She and Oliver had decided to do their best to keep it a secret among Gryffindor, the better to exploit their new edge before the next match.


	11. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments are forgotten. Heracles has a rough day. Holly gains an unexpected ally on the Quidditch pitch, and a mystery in the corridors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should first apologise for the silence on this story. I haven't died, but been busy now I'm in university so my time for writing is considerably reduced. The same is true for my proofreader, which is why despite this chapter having written a while ago it's only come out of the pipeline. 
> 
> However, so long as a I organise my time properly this semester, I might find the time for one, or even two chapters. 
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos, and perhaps enjoy reading this chapter.

**Holly**

“So how about it?” Ronnie asked as they walked back up the stairs to the portrait hole. “We didn’t take you to Zonko’s last time.”

“Yeah I guess,” Holly replied half-heartedly.

Since their talk with Hagrid she had been feeling bad about how they had treated Heracles. Truth be told, she would rather make up with him than risk another Hogsmeade visit.

“C’mon, bring your cloak, no one’ll notice,” Ronnie persuaded.

“Oh all right,” Holly sighed.

Heracles must have known something was up, because he kept glancing at them at breakfast. Holly did her best to avoid his eye, subtly pushing the Cloak further into her bag. After breakfast she bid Ronnie goodbye and followed Neville and Farsi up the stairs.

“Hang on, I forgot something,” she told them before doubling back and heading towards the statue of the one-eyed witch.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she whispered to the Map. Neville was with Farsi in the library, reminding Holly she still had a Potions essay to finish. _“Dissendium!”_  The back of the witch’s hump dissolved and Holly stuffed her bag down before entering herself.

Holly slipped the Cloak on before she got into Honeydukes, finding Ronnie apparently browsing a box of liquorice wands.

“Boo,” she tapped her shoulder.

Ronnie jumped, knocking a few boxes. “O-ok, let’s go.”

Ronnie led them out of the shop, Holly had to be very careful not to brush against anyone. This was easier said than done, a group of fifth years had just entered and the description of crammed did not do justice to the amount of people browsing the shelves.

“Where are you?” Ronnie asked. “It’s weird.”

“I’m right here,” Holly replied quietly. “Just keep going, I’ll tell you if I can’t keep up.”

Zonko’s clearly received a lot of business from Fred and George. It had shelves of dungbombs, fanged Frisbees and all manner of things a couple of pranksters could make use of. They emerged from it, their coin purses significantly lighter and their pockets full of merchandise Holly was sure Heracles would disapprove of.

“The Shrieking Shack?” Ronnie suggested.

“Why not,” Holly replied as they walked down the street. Soon enough they were standing  in front of the fence outside.

For a while they stood in silence, staring up at the boarded windows and creaking doors. The quiet was broken by the sound of feet squelching through the mud. Malfoy’s voice drifted over the hill, causing Holly to tense.

“Yes, I should be getting a letter from father any day now, that blubbering oaf can’t possibly convince the committee that the beast is gentle,” she drawled to Crabbe and Goyle, flanking her as always. They cackled dumbly. “Why hello, Weasel, didn’t expect to find you here. Looking for a new house?”

Holly could feel Ronnie bristle beside her. “Let me handle this,” she whispered.

Creeping slowly behind Malfoy, Holly barely heard her comments, so concentrated was she on not stepping on a twig. Bending down, she scooped up a handful of mud.

“Don’t all your family sleep in one room?” Malfoy was asking snidely. But before she could say anything else, Holly had thrown the mud at the back of her head. SPLAT! “Aaaah!” Malfoy cried as the mud slipped down the back of her robes. “Who did that?!”

“It’s very haunted here, isn’t it?” Ronnie commented with the air of one discussing the weather.

“It came from over there!” Malfoy shrieked, directing Goyle to come lumbering towards Holly.

Holly snatched up a branch as she jigged around him, hitting the back of his knees so he crashed to the ground, roaring in pain. A second mud pie struck Malfoy across the face. This time it was Crabbe’s turn to shout, as Holly whipped down his trousers, revealing a pair of yellowed y-fronts. He leapt madly, struggling to waddle and pull them up again, only for Holly to kick him hard in the back.

Two down, Holly thought to herself.

“It must have rained quite a bit lately when one considers the mud,” Ronnie continued as if nothing was happening.

Holly was about to throw a third mud pie at Malfoy, when a hand caught hold of her wrist.

“Ye can stop now,” Hamish said quietly. “Malfoy, go now and I won’t breathe a word of this.”

Malfoy didn’t need telling twice, she scrambled back the way she had come, Crabbe and Goyle struggling after her.

“Hamish, what are you doing?” Ronnie asked.

“I saw ye walking from Zonko’s actin’ strange” he replied. “Thought I’d follow, see what ye were up to.” Letting go of her wrist, he turned to Holly. “It’s easy to spot yer hand when ye know what to look for.”

Holly slipped off the Cloak. “You figured it was me,” she sighed.

“Well it doesn’t take a genius to figure ye’d try something. Ye hate being cooped up in Hogwarts when we’re here,” he grinned. “I saw Cles in Scrivenshaft’s too, and I’d bet he knows too.”

“Well he knows he can mind his own business then, doesn’t he?” Ronnie grumbled.

“Oh aye, but he needs to talk to ye anyway,” Hamish said reprovingly.

“What is it?” Holly asked.

“He asked me not to tell ye. Look it’s almost time to go back, let’s go and find him,” he said tersely.

Holly had to put the Cloak back on before they entered Hogsmeade again. Honeydukes was mercifully empty when she slipped behind the counter and down to the passageway. A brief inspection of the Map told her it was safe to come out.

Heracles was already with Hamish and Ronnie when she returned to the common room, his face downcast.

“What is it?” she asked, plopping down beside Hamish on the sofa.

“Buckbeak’s lost the case,” he replied grimly.

“We have to see Hagrid,” Holly said immediately.

“Holly, that won’t help him right now, besides by the time we’d finish comforting him it’ll be past curfew and he’d feel worse knowing he be putting you in danger,” he shook his head. “No, I’ve sent him a letter telling him how we feel.”

“Then what can we do?” Hamish asked.

“We’ll go and see him for tea tomorrow,” Heracles explained. “In the meantime, I’ll try and think of something.”

)(

The news, grim as it was, did reconcile Ronnie and Heracles. The rift Holly bad been feeling in her friendship was further repaired by Hamish rejoining them from his exile among the Ravenclaws.

“All they ever talk about are the exams, some of them,” he moaned one day. “Not all of them, but Terry, ye’d think he lives for them.”

Someone who was working hard was Heracles, who kept making trips to the library after classes to check on something or other.

“Do you ever think you’re working too hard?” Farsi asked him one day after he had finished a report on the Arithmantic structure of summoning charms.

“What? No, of course not,” he said too quickly for anyone to believe him.

Even so, Holly kept an eye on him during Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had them tending to Flobberworms, a good idea as he didn’t seem in a fit state to teach.

“I’m tryin’ ter make Beaky’s las’ days nice,” he said to them, ostensibly checking to see if Hamish’s Flobberworm was still alive. “Bin treatin’ him extra special.”

“Don’t worry Hagrid, we’ll find a way,” Heracles reassured him, stuffing a piece of lettuce down his worm’s hole, then a hand, then his forearm before he realised what he was doing. “Oh yuck!”

“I still can’t believe they sentenced him,” Ronnie shook her head.

Holly snorted ruefully. “I bet the Malfoys have them in their pocket.”

“Yer probably righ’ there Holly,” Hagrid agreed, prodding her Flobberworm. “But best I said nothin’ ‘bout it when I was there.”

The talk with Hagrid seemed to eased Heracles’ tension, until Malfoy spoke up.

“And did you see the way he was blubbering? Can’t believe Dumbledore lets him teach us!”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Heracles spun around to meet her.

“What did you say, Granger?”

Holly clutched Ronnie’s wrist before she could reach for her wand. She shook her off.

“I’m fine,” she said lowly.

“Oh are you deaf Malfoy? I said shut it.” It was clear Heracles however, was anything but fine.

“How dare you speak to me like that, Mudblood,” Malfoy’s face was white with anger now.

“C’mon Cles, let’s go. She’s not worth it.” Hamish stepped forward, but Heracles’ hand stopped him from going further.

“No, I’ve had enough of being the reasonable one.” His face was darkening.

“Oh yes please do, I’m sure we’re all terrified,” Malfoy sneered. “Now step aside or I shall show the world what dirty blood looks like.”

“I’d rather have “dirty blood” than be the product of generations of incest!” Holly noticed Heracles had passed his bag to Hamish, who looked worried. “If your head wasn’t so far up your arse then maybe you’d notice that your supposed pure lineage is nothing more than rubbish, fabricated to make you feel superior to those who actually work to achieve things, instead of using their family’s wealth to bribe their way to victory.

“How far back do you think it goes, this “pure” blood of yours? One generation? Two?!” Heracles was laying into Malfoy, who for once seemed at a loss for words. “If your ancestors had stuck to breeding among wizards they’d have died out centuries ago!”Heracles was breathing heavily.

“Now shut up about people being pathetic when some of us have had to work hard to get to Hogwarts, achieve brilliantly, only to be snubbed by a society that cares more about your blood than what you can actually do.” Malfoy was white with shock. “If you want to see someone pathetic, look in the mirror and ask yourself what would happen if you did something, instead of relying on daddy to get you out of your own mess.”

The walk up to the castle was significantly quieter than the walk down. Malfoy had waited until a few other groups had passed before bringing up the rear. Heracles was still quite red in the face when Ronnie turned to him.

“That was bloody brilliant,” she said gleefully.

“Thanks,” Heracles smiled. “Though I would appreciate it if I could keep my temper in check next time, it doesn’t help me think.”

)(

“The omens have told me that crystal balls will form a large part of your exam this year, so I thought it better to introduce them early for you to practice,” Professor Trelawney said with all the melodrama of a pantomime actress as they entered her stuffy room. The habitual fire crackled merrily as Holly, Ronnie and Heracles felt their way through the incense to find their usual table.

“Must have been hard, given that she sets the exam,” Heracles whispered under his breath.

Professor Trelawney didn’t seem to hear him; Heracles had obviously found some way to block her superpower of selective hearing teachers use so often.

The trio slumped in their seats, elbows resting in the table as they struggled to fight off the urge to sleep. Holly felt her head loll as Professor Trelawney swept around the tables, her bangles jingling softly. “Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their orbs?”

“I don’t need help, it’s obvious there’s going to be loads of fog tonight,” Ronnie groaned.

Holly and Heracles burst out laughing.

“Now really, some of us might be on the cusp of a vision and you are disturbing the aura of the class,” Professor Trelawney said sharply, moving as swiftly as she dared to their table.

“Yeah I’m getting a vision of my bed,” Holly said through fits of giggles.

However Professor Trelawney was now leaning on their table, looking at them each through her magnified glasses.

“Sorry professor, I was just about to try myself,” Heracles said, composing himself.

“Yes dear, guide us through what you see.”

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly, but Holly could see that he wasn’t really paying attention to the orb, but to Professor Trelawney’s eyes. “It could be the Grim.”

Professor Trelawney seemed to sigh imperceptibly. “Yes, I’m sorry dear to say this, but I do not sense the aura one needs for the Sight. Your heart is as dry as those books to which you so desperately cleave.”

“And I cannot sense the genuine in you,” Heracles replied sharply.

With that Heracles stood abruptly, took his bag, and marched out of the classroom.

“I’m saying she’s a fraud,” his voice floated up to them.

Hamish came rushing to them at lunch. Holly and Ronnie hadn’t seen Heracles since they had sat down.

“Everyone’s talkin’ about how Cles quit Divination, is it true?”

“Where is he?” Ronnie asked.

“In the library, he said he was compiling his notes for somethin’,” Hamish replied quickly.

Holly was puzzled. “But exams are a while away though.”

“Yeah, but ye know Cles. Anyway he said they weren’t for revision,” Hamish explained. “But did he really quit Divination?”

“Mm yeah, Professor Trelawney insulted him and he left,” Holly replied.

“I think he’s having a hard week,” Ronnie commented with a snort.

“Who?” asked Farsi as she joined them.

“Cles,” said Hamish. “He laid into Malfoy earlier, and now he’s just quit Divination.”

Farsi gasped. “He seemed to be the most...organised of you. I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”

Up and down the tale spread, that Heracles Granger had dropped one of his electives. Holly couldn’t help but notice how the refugees mentioned his destroying of Malfoy too; many had been insulted by her. Several came from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, searching for him to thank him.

)(

In the days following Heracles’ dramatic escape from Divination, as Ronnie liked to put it, Quidditch fever overtook Hogwarts.

The last game of the league always generated excitement, but Holly had missed it first year being in the hospital wing, and during her second year Quidditch matches had been cancelled due to the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. This year, Gryffindor had made to the final to face off against their bitter rival, Slytherin. As such, fights sometimes broke out between members of both houses, and a small retinue would follow Holly to her classes, providing a human shield to protect her from harm.

Holly suspected Oliver was behind this; he had his sights set on the Cup and could not afford to lose his star Seeker.

Even the refugees could not escape Quidditch mania. Holly returned to the common room one evening to find Handan and Omar giving Oliver the lowdown on Flint’s tactics.

“He’s gone for heavy hitters,” Handan spoke softly. “Not so good for manoeuvrability, but they’ll be a pain to tackle.”

“Thanks guys, who told you this again?”

“Ismail’s been sitting in on their practice for weeks now,” Omar answered.

“Because he likes Malfoy,” said Heracles from where he was sitting at a table.

“What do you mean?” Holly asked, walking over and shifting books from a chair.

“It’s just I’ve noticed the way he looks at her, slight tilt of the head, to the right. Normally it tilts left when he’s looking at someone; he also looks away when she glances his way. Not to mention that he tries to always sit near her in classes” he said as if it were clear as day. It wasn’t. “It’s all in the observation.”

“Right,” she said, her voice betraying her bemusement. “So is there something I should know?”

“Indeed, I’ve been observing behaviour this year,” he winked knowingly. “And I’ve compiled a series of notes. Take Black for example.”

“The murderer, who wants me dead,” Holly’s curiosity was piqued.

“Yes, be that as it may, the behaviour is quite odd,” Heracles said with all the air of one about to continue. He continued. “In theory Black is mad to kill you, would go to any lengths. Yet twice she has infiltrated the castle, and you’re still alive. It’s as if she’s after something else; what it is I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

“You’re saying I should hold judgement on the person who betrayed my parents?!”

“I’m saying there may be more to this than at first meets the eye,” Heracles replied cryptically.

)(

Holly woke with a start; Oliver was standing over her bed.

“I can’t believe you slept in, we had to use Neville instead!”

Suddenly she was flying, weaving in and out of the goalposts. Malfoy was cackling as she rode her dragon, a lick of flame shooting after Holly. The flames were nearing her with each passing second, singeing her broom. She had to get go faster, she had to escape before-

CRASH!

Holly’s eyes snapped open, revealing a mess of sheets and limbs. Her nightmare had caused her to fall out of bed. Shaking her head, she glanced at her alarm clock: 6:42. There was no use going back to bed now, Holly thought to herself, she may as well get dressed.

The cold of the shower jerked her awake, and she snorted at the dream. The team would never resort to using Neville as Seeker; they had a perfectly good substitute in Cormac McLaggen. Slytherin would not be flying dragons - the rules of Quidditch might be lax, but fire-breathing wyverns were a clear breach of them.

Holly dressed quickly, throwing her latest Christmas jumper over a t-shirt. The other girls in the dorm were stirring when she passed down to the common room.

Breakfast was a silent affair, as the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed as subdued as Holly. After a while the rest of the school arrived, noticeably less stressed.

“Team, let’s go down,” Oliver said tersely.

They filed out to pats on the back, going down to the Quidditch pitch, where Oliver paced around, muttering to himself.

“The ground’s hard, so that should give us a nice kickoff,” he told them as they trooped to the changing rooms. “Could be painful if we’re knocked off, but that means it will be for the Slytherins too. Fred, or George, can one of you keep an eye on our star player?”

“Oliver,” George began,

“It would be our pleasure,” Fred finished.

Holly blushed at the compliment of “star player”, she could only hope she would live up to expectations. She buckled up her Quidditch cloak tightly, doing the same for her pads. Angelina was helping Alicia with hers whilst Katie kept glancing to the clock nervously. Fred and George were engaged in some sort of good luck ritual. Oliver sat beside Holly, fidgeting with the straps on his pads.

“Oliver, don’t worry, we’ll win this,” Holly placed a hand on his arm.

“Just remember to catch the Snitch when we’re fifty points ahead,” he nodded stiffly. “Let’s go team.”

A great roar greeted them as they emerged onto the pitch, blinking from the light. Both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were supporting Gryffindor, presenting them with a sea of red broken only by the green boos of Slytherin. Holly smiled as she saw the “Potter 4 president” banner made in her first year by Dean Thomas and Heracles. Alongside it was a similar banner which read “”Refugees with Potter”.

The Slytherin Quidditch team were waiting for them. Handan had been right, aside Malfoy, the only girl on the team, the Slytherin side was composed of green hulks that may have had some troll blood in them.

Oliver and Flint looked as if they were trying to crush one another’s hands.

Madam Hooch kicked out the Bludgers, and Holly caught a glint of gold as the Snitch whizzed off. Holly kicked off hard, rising like a cork, level with the Quaffle.

“It looks like another fine day for Gryffindor as they play off against Slytherin for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup” Lee Jordan’s voice was met with cheers. “And Gryffindor take possession, Alicia Spinnet taking the Quaffle forwards.”

Holly meanwhile circled the match, vigilant for the glint that would betray the Snitch’s position. She had to ensure Malfoy didn’t see it first. This appeared easy, as she was tailing Holly, clearly hopeful Holly would betray where it was.

“Ten points for Gryffindor!” Holly made a small whoop at the news, they were taking an early lead.

“Alright there, Potter?” Malfoy called from above. “How’s the scar?”

Better than yours, Holly smirked to herself as she rocketed up to skim past Malfoy, nearly unseating her rival.

“Not a day for talking then, is it?”

In response, Holly pretended to spot the Snitch by the Slytherin goalposts. Malfoy whooshed after her, but the Firebolt cleared the posts long before Malfoy could. Holly snapped off a number of these, looping around impossible angles Malfoy struggled to follow.

“That’s forty points to Gryffindor, I’ll wager Flint’s regretting his choice of Chasers,” Lee Jordan announced.

The match was quickly becoming Holly’s dirtiest. Both sides were resorting to violent tactics. One of the Slytherin Chasers, Pucey, grabber Katie’s head as he tackled her.

“Foul!” cried Lee vehemently.

“Jordan,” Professor McGonagall cut across sharply.

“I thought it was the Quaffle,” Pucey tried  justifying himself to Hooch, who awarded Gryffindor a penalty.

“And after that foul attempt to murder one of the Gryffindor Chasers-”

“Jordan,” Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted.

“Sorry, Professor, after that blatant attempt to-”

“Jordan, will you please commentate, not render judgement on the match?!”

“Sorry, Professor, won’t happen again,” he apologised.

Katie was rushing towards the goalposts, the Quaffle tucked under her arm.

“Katie Bell takes the penalty and... she scores! Fifty points to Gryffindor!”

Holly punched the air in triumph, doing a lap around the pitch and feigning having spotted the Snitch a few times to throw off Malfoy.

However this last goal only served to anger Slytherin further, with Flint jabbing Angelina in the face to take hold of the Quaffle. Fred threw his bat at him in retaliation, earning Slytherin a penalty much to the dismay of the groaning crows below.

Oliver had blocked previous shots, but a Bludger forced him to stop short of blocking this one and Slytherin gained ten points.

This put a dent in Holly’s plans, as the last penalty had put Gryffindor fifty ahead, only for Slytherin to start closing the gap. She couldn’t catch the Snitch now, as Slytherin would still win the cup if she did.

Alicia, however, had other ideas. She sped down the pitch, intercepted the Quaffle from Pucey and scored her second goal.

“And with that the scores are sixty-ten to Gryffindor,” Lee informed her.

It was then that Holly saw her quarry. The Snitch was floating high above the game, out of reach. This was her moment! Holly lifted the handle of the Firebolt up and rose swiftly. The Snitch was getting closer and closer; the wind roaring in her ears, Holly reached out a hand, and felt herself slowing down.

“What the-?” She looked behind her. Malfoy was holding on to the end of her broom, grinning.

She relinquished her hold as Madam Hooch came towards them.

“Penalty to Slytherin,” she screeched. “In all my years officiating Quidditch, never - the nerve - to sabotage!”

“YOU CHEATING LITTLE!” Lee Jordan yelled down the loudspeaker.

Holly half-expected Professor McGonagall to reprimand him, but she seemed a little preoccupied with yelling herself. Her hat had fallen off and a few hairs had escaped her tight bun.

“Seventy points to Gryffindor!”

Holly was relishing the scene of a furious Flint berating his Keeper for letting Angelina score another goal. Yet the game continued. The Snitch had disappeared after Malfoy had stopped Holly catching it.

She swooped down to begin looking anew.

“Holly, catch!” Holly snapped out of her search to see Katie tossing the Quaffle to her, Flint and Pucey tackling her rapidly afterwards. It landed heavily in her hands.

“Oof,” she panted.

“Here, Holly, below!” Angelina called.

Glancing down, Holly glimpsed Angelina flying past. She sped after her, tucking the Quaffle under her arm. A Bludger shot past her, only to collide with Flint chasing her.

“Now Holly!”

Holly lobbed the Quaffle downwards for Angelina, pulling up abruptly before Flint could catch her. She barely heard Lee’s commentary when she saw a sight that made her blood run cold. Malfoy was chasing the Snitch.

Flattening herself against her Firebolt, Holly rocketed off like a coiled spring. The wind roared in her ears, she was gaining on Malfoy. If only she could go faster!

“Go, go, go,” she urged herself on.

Malfoy chanced a peek behind her. Her eyebrows rose as fast as Holly was catching up to her, approaching the speed of sound.

Suddenly the Snitch shot diagonally backwards, in the opposite direction, so it was going to undershoot Holly.

She didn’t think; Holly simply rolled under the Firebolt and let go. Holly plummeted for a few seconds, far too slowly in her opinion. The Snitch was coming to her. Holly reached out her hand, it almost fell into her palm.

At this point Holly realised she was in freefall without her broom.

Oh, she thought to herself.

This would have been the end of Holly were it not for the pair of hands suddenly around her middle.

“Don’t breathe a word of this Potter,” Malfoy’s voice said harshly in her ear.

Malfoy let her go a foot above the ground, dropping her without further ado. Holly landed with a whump, her Firebolt clattering beside her.

Before she could do anything else though, a red mob was lifting her off her feet. Holly looked about blearily, Fred and George had her borne aloft on their shoulders. Ronnie, Hamish, Heracles and the rest of Gryffindor were on the pitch, forming a mob of red and gold.

“Ye did it!” Hamish was crying.

Ronnie shouting ecstatically caused Heracles to laugh. Farsi was grinning with Adem. Parvati and Lance were jumping up and down with glee as Colin Creevey’s camera flashed repeatedly.

“Gryffindor wins!” Professor McGonagall cried over the loudspeaker.

Distantly, Holly could see Malfoy getting an earful from Flint. She was looking at the ground, Nimbus in hand as he bellowed language not appropriate for this retelling. Beside her was a Slytherin boy, Ismail Fatah, one of the refugees. It looked as if he was comforting her.

There was no time for sympathy however, as Holly reached the teachers’ seating. Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he passed the shining Quidditch cup to Oliver. His face said it all: after years of trying Oliver Wood had finally won the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup.

“That’s my girl!” he shouted when he passed it to her.

Holly lifted the cup over head to be met with roars of approval from the crowd. She was on top of the world. In that moment, Holly felt she could have produced the world’s best Patronus.

)(

The party in the common room that night was one to remember, ending only when Professor McGonagall came in her tartan dressing gown to tell them all to get some sleep.

Holly would have heartily agreed with her head of house were it not for the fact that she could not get to sleep. No matter how much she plumped up her pillow or rearranged the sheets, Holly seemed incapable of finding comfort. The other girls had no such trouble, snoring softly with the occasional grunt.

There was something on her mind that refused to give her peace. Somewhere in Hogwarts, something was amiss. There was only one thing that could give a clue to it. Quietly, Holly slipped the Marauders’ Map from under her pillow.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she whispered. The lines of ink formed, spread and connecting to one another until corridors could be discerned and Hogwarts was presented before her. Holly scoured it for something, anything that might jump out as unusual.

In the west wings, Professor Flitwick was patrolling, he crossed paths with Professor Sprout before continuing his route. Nothing out of the ordinary, the professors usually patrolled those corridors.

There! On the fifth floor south corridor. A dot labelled Petra Pettigrew was darting from one side to the other.

But Pettigrew’s dead, Holly thought to herself. Perhaps the Map was faulty at times; whatever the case Holly felt she had to investigate. Throwing one her wool jumpers over her nightclothes, Holly slipped out of the girls’ dormitory and went down the stairs.

The trolls guarding the portrait of the Fat Lady were mercifully occupied measuring their clubs when Holly crept out of the common room.

Holly made her way to the corridor she had seen Pettigrew’s dot. The candles and fires were out in this part of the castle.

_“Lumos.”_

Her spell lit up a corridor of portraits mumbling softly in sleep. Holly kept glancing at the Map periodically as she tiptoed along. Pettigrew was still weaving in circles just a corner ahead.

At least she was, until the dot began travelling with increasing speed towards Holly. She gasped, sweeping her wandlight around in front of her, waking a couple of portraits. Pettigrew was closing fast, nearly in front of her, yet Holly could see nothing. Then she was gone; as fast as it had happened, Pettigrew was scurrying away from Holly.

Holly let out a breath she had forgotten she’d been holding. The Map was faulty, she had eaten too much.

Another two dots were approaching from around the corner. Luna Lovegood was accompanied by Talik Ashran.

“Luna, wake up, c’mon we’ll be caught,” the voice that Holly assumed to belong to Talik whispered hoarsely.

Soon enough two girls appeared. The first had thick dirty blond hair that fell in waves, the second’s hair was a dark brown that matched her eyes. The pair were clearly in a similar position to Holly, pyjamas telling her Talik had followed Luna from their dormitory.

Holly’s wandlight did a far more effective job of waking Luna. When she opened her eyes, Holly had the distinct feeling this girl could see into her soul. Light grey orbs highlighted a face that looked as if it was in permanent wonder.

“Oh, hello,” she said in a dreamy voice.

“Luna I-” Talik stopped short. “You’re Holly Potter.”

“Yeah, I am,” Holly answered in an equally unsure voice.

“I’m really sorry, Luna sleepwalks,” Talik said apologetically. “Normally I can keep her in the dorm but not tonight.”

“It’s ok, Talik, I’ve never been hurt,” Luna said in what Holly guessed to be a reassuring tone. Luna turned back to Holly. “Thank you for waking me up before something did happen. You were after something.”

It wasn’t a question, for whatever reason, Luna knew Holly was up to something.

“Er yeah, it’s gone now though,” she replied. “Which house are you guys in?”

“Ravenclaw,” Talik answered quickly. “The other girls don’t seem to care that Luna does this.”

“Well, I guess it’s good you do,” Holly smiled tentatively, unsure if it was the right thing to do.

“Th-thanks,” Talik stuttered. “Great job in the Quidditch yesterday, Luna and I really hoped you’d beat Malfoy.”

Holly felt an uncomfortable prickle remembering what Malfoy had done at the end of the match. “Oh thanks, it felt good for me too.”

Talik and Holly laughed at her admission, though Luna remained quiet.

“I think Professor Snape is coming,” she said.

Holly’s blood ran cold, if Snape caught her out of bed after beating his house she could expect a hefty punishment. She glanced at the Map. Snape’s dot was indeed heading their way, likely drawn by the noise they were making.

“C’mon, follow me,” she said, grabbing Luna’s hand. They weren’t too far from a secret alcove. If they could make it Holly would avoid earning Snape’s ire.

“What’s that?” Talik asked, puffing to keep up.

“Nothing,” Holly replied. On the Map Snape’s dot was closing fast, and Holly could see his own wandlight reflecting off the stone walls. “Mischief managed.”

“Potter!” It was too late. Holly turned slowly, dreading curdling in her stomach. She felt suddenly quite exposed, the wandlight reminded her of how little she wore as it highlighted her pale legs. “Curfew was four hours ago, yet I find you wandering the corridors, on the other side of the school to Gryffindor Tower. Why is that?”

“I was exploring, sir,” she replied evasively.

“And you two?” he asked coldly.

“I was helping Luna and Talik back to Ravenclaw tower,” Holly spoke up before either could say a thing. “Luna got lost sleepwalking.”

“A likely story,” Snape sneered. “What is that in your hand, Potter?”

“Just a scrap of parchment.” Holly’s heart clenched, she could only hope Snape wouldn’t find a way to discover its secret.

“We shall see. Give it to me,” he said, reaching out a pale hand for the artefact. Holly reluctantly gave the Map to him. Talik shot her a pointed look, perhaps expecting the great Holly Potter to put up more of a fight. Holly shook her head, they were already in enough trouble as it was. The Map, however, thought otherwise.

Whipping out his wand, Snape pointed it at the parchment. “Reveal your secrets.” Writing wrote itself in the parchment, the ink flowing from the tip of Snape’s wand. Whatever it was didn’t seem to please Snape, and he passed it back to her. “Read it.”

Were it not for Snape standing right in front of her, Holly would have laughed. “ _Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape..._ ” she stopped.

“Well?”

Holly took a breath to steady herself. “.. _And requests he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business_.”

Holly stood dumbstruck as more writing joined the first sentence. Talik was having a hard time stifling a snort. Luna simply smiled.

“Carry on very carefully, Potter,” Snape prompted in a low voice.

“ _Mr Prongs concurs with Mr Moony, and would like to add the said Snape is an ugly git._ ” Another hand joined the first two, quickly followed by a fourth. “ _Ms. Padfoot would like to register her astonishment that Snivellus managed to become a teacher in the first place.”_

Holly closed her eyes in horror. When they opened the last sentence had been finished. _“Ms. Wormtail bids Professor Snape a good day, though she recommends he wash his hair, the slimeball.”_

Holly waited for the blow to fall.

“So...” Professor Snape spoke softly. “We’ll see about this. Come with me, all of you.”

Snape led them back along the corridor, his cloak billowing as usual, reminding Holly of a large bat. Holly realised with a start he was leading them to Professor Lupin’s office. He strode through the door without a backwards glance.

“Lupin, we need to talk,” he called, prompting Professor Lupin’s head to pop out from his office.

“Yes, Severus?” he said as he climbed down the steps from his office to stand by his desk.

“I have just confiscated this item from a student,” Snape said, snatching the Map from Holly. “Clearly full of dark magic, your expertise obviously.”

Snape handed the Map to Professor Lupin disdainfully. Professor Lupin nodded thoughtfully as he read it, but Holly could see he was amused. “Oh I think not, more likely it’s something from Zonko’s; a parchment that insults whoever reads it?” Holly nodded. “As you say, however, I will examine it for any dangerous qualities it may possess.”

Snape grunted in satisfaction before sweeping from the room.

“I trust you two also have an excuse for being up after curfew?” Professor Lupin asked Talik and Luna.

“I’m a sleepwalker, professor,” Luna explained. “Talik likes to keep me out of trouble.”

“I see, can you both get back to your dormitory if I give you a note?” Talik and Luna nodded. “I won’t be taking any points from Ravenclaw tonight, girls, but do please try to keep your night-time wanderings to within your common room” He scribbled a note and passed it to Talik. “I shall also be passing this information to Professor Flitwick so that he may take appropriate action to mitigate this problem.”

“Thank you professor, sorry professor, it won’t happen again professor,” Talik said, obviously grateful for Professor Lupin’s leniency.

“I hope your next transformation is less painful, professor,” Luna said as they left, Talik dragging her by the hand.

Holly gave Professor Lupin a quizzical look.

“I shall explain later, Holly,” he said. “But could you stay for a moment?”

“Yes, professor?” she asked once the door had shut.

Professor Lupin sighed. “Holly, I am disappointed. You should think yourself lucky Professor Snape brought you here; I shall only give you this reprimand.” Holly looked at her feet. “I hope you understand the danger you put yourself in, carrying this Map around. Yes, I know what it is. You realise that in the wrong hands this is a map to you?”

“Professor, I-” Holly’s throat choked up, she had never upset any other teacher aside Snape, and Professor Lupin had always come across as a reasonable person. The shock and shame were too much for Holly, who reverted to wondering about getting new slippers.

“Your parents lay down their lives to protect you, and wandering the grounds with this seems a poor way to repay them. I just can’t understand why you wouldn’t take something like this to Professor McGonagall, myself or any other member of staff.” The worst part was not the shouting, it was the way Professor Lupin just looked disappointed. “This time I won’t take any further action, this matter shall remain between the two of us. And I will go ahead with these anti-Dementor lessons, I doubt James or Lily would forgive me so easily.”

“Professor, do you know who made it?” Holly asked softly.

“I do,” he said simply. “I should assume they would find it hilarious to see you were using it.”

“S-ir, I th-think you should know, I don’t think the Map works.” Holly gulped. “It showed me someone c-called Petra P-Pettigrew.”

“That’s- very well Holly, you may go.”

Holly slept even worse than before that night. the mystery of Petra Pettigrew was one thing, and Professor Lupin’s reprimand was another. She felt ashamed by his words. For reasons unbeknownst to her, Holly’s pride had prevented her from telling anyone but her friends about the Map.

However she was also troubled by his admission that he knew the Map’s creators. What did he mean when he said that they would find it funny if they knew she was using it?

Strange dreams of laughing men in the shadows haunted Holly’s dream as she whizzed after a golden dot labelled Petra Pettigrew. That was until it turned into the Grim, a high cackle filled the rain-soaked air and with a flash of green light Holly woke to an empty dormitory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Hamish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heracles struggles through the exams. Holly hears a prophecy, Ronnie is reunited with someone, and the Whomping Willow claims its next victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You lucky persons, two chapters released in one night! Now be careful, don't read them all at once, too much of a good thing and all that. Also it means I'm steeling myself for chapter-free times ahead.
> 
> Comment, kudos and general enjoyment are all much appreciated by moi, the author of this poor imitation of JKRowling's work.

**Hamish**

In what seemed like no time at all, the end of year exams rolled in. Every hour not spent eating, sleeping or in lessons was spent in the library, where in spite of the sun outside, everyone struggled to concentrate. Hamish swore the books would get dustier at this time of year. It was as if the world was doing everything it could to hinder his performance.

“Why is it so sunny and warm?” he asked no one in particular.

His question was met with grumbles of agreement, and the first years complaining about their tests were sneered at disdainfully.

“Don’t know what they’re talking about,” Ronnie muttered under her breath as one moaned about having to stay indoors.

Then there were the exams themselves; despite knowing they wouldn’t count for much in the future, no one wanted to make a mistake in their Charms or Transfiguration exams. Ronnie refused to talk to anyone after her exams, a sign she was less than pleased by her performance.

“I’m sure ye didn’t do that badly,” he told her one night. “We’ve all been practising hard, and Cles made sure ye knew how to cast the right spells.”

“Yeah well, my kettle was still croaking when I left,” Ronnie said glumly.

Hamish himself was a little disappointed in how his own kettle had been covered in slime, but he kept that fact to himself. Thankfully he had been able to perform all the charms set by Professor Flitwick without a hitch, if one ignored the overenthusiastic Shrinking Charm that had shrunk the desk so small the diminutive professor had decided to keep the corner of the classroom clear until the charm wore off.

There was, however, one person who seemed to be relishing the pressure.

“I think I may have muddled the dates between the last Goblin Rebellion and the Centaur Enclosure again, that one always gets me,” Heracles explained over a subdued lunch. He was the only person who stayed awake in History of Magic. “Do you think three sides was enough for the final essay? How many did you guys do?”

A withering stare from Holly quickly closed his mouth, for which everyone was thankful.

The worst day came with Arithmancy in the morning, followed by a quick lunch to cram in some last-minute revision before Ancient Runes. Hamish dreaded to think he had neglected a basic function after emerging from the two hour Arithmancy exam, and some of the later problems had surprised him with their difficulty.

“It just goes to show you can never truly predict what’ll turn up in an exam,” Heracles said brightly, joining him on the way to lunch.

“She said tertiaries wouldn’t be this exam, Heracles! That’s not unpredictable, nay, it’s lyin’!” Hamish fumed. “It’s a good thin’ I read about them before we went in.”

They passed a window, through which the figures of first and second years could be seen, lounging in the grounds, their tests over and done with. Hamish longed to be outside too. The heat in the room had been stifling, and his hair had plastered to the back of his neck, adding to the final touches of his manic-student-sitting-exams look so elegantly displayed by his rolled sleeves, half done tie and ink-stained hands.

The Ancient Runes exam passed in much the same way, Hamish relieved he had practiced translating exercises when the eventual questions showed up; he was, however, frustrated by the fly bouncing off the window that Professor Babbling refused to acknowledge. Although his mood on the way out was buoyed with the knowledge that there was only one day of exams left.

Finally that day came, the last exam for Hamish that year. Professor Lupin had set up an obstacle course, filled with creatures from his lessons.

“I suspect many of you will be tired of sitting hunched at desks,” he said mildly. “The key to this exam is quite simple: get through the course defeating most of the creatures. I will be watching each of you should the beasts get too much for you.”

With a surname beginning with a W, Hamish had to wait with Ronnie as the rest of the year went through, one at a time. Heracles did very well, getting past all the creatures with ease, that is until he came to the Boggart. He returned to them teary-eyed.

“Cles, what is it?” Ronnie asked.

“Professor McGonagall, she said I’d failed all my exams,” he admitted.

“Not to worry, Heracles, you did admirably,” Professor Lupin said reassuringly.

“I know, professor,” he said. “I only wish I had been able to think of a way to make the situation funny.”

“It’s already funny,” Ronnie chuckled to Hamish.

Holly naturally came through the course grinning with barely suppressed glee. She had come out with flying colours, ignoring the hinkypunk, despatching the grindylow and tackling the boggart with ease.

When it came to Hamish’s turn, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. Ignoring the hinkypunk was very hard when it kept dancing around him, dazzling his eyes with its werelight.

Worse came when his leg was swallowed by the metre deep pond, when all he had to do was get to the other side of it. A ripple in the water betrayed the grindylow’s position, but before Hamish knew it, long, thin fingers had wrapped themselves around his legs and he was dragged underwater. Hamish flailed about, kicking his legs to be free. He managed to gulp a lungful of air before being tugged down again.

Pointing his wand at where he felt the vice-like grip, Hamish bubbled out, _“Relashio!”_

The grindylow seemed to cry as it was forced to let go. Hamish clambered onto dry land, heaving a spluttering. He had beached himself onto the section of the course for Red Caps, and already Hamish could see their distinctive red heads peeking out of the holes from the ground.

All he had to was get to the large chest, but the Red Caps weren’t going to let him do this without a fight.

 _“Repulso!”_ Hamish cried, knocking one back into its hole before he scrambled to his feet, kicking another into the pond. More and more were popping out of the ground, however, and Hamish knew he would have to make a break for it. He ran as the little mob charged, using the spell repeatedly to blast a path through.

With a cry of triumph Hamish stepped up to the large chest, the Red Caps retreating back to their holes, dragging some of their fallen brethren. The chest opened with a click, and Hamish held his breath. He had a horrible feeling he knew what would come out. A teddy bear popped out of the box, landing with a plop on its back. It was covered in a shiny, red liquid that oozed to the floor.

Hamish looked away, thankful Professor Lupin had erected a screen for each participants’ privacy. This was because he had no idea how he could make the boggart’s form funny.

 _“Reducto!”_ Hamish said, his wand shaking as the teddy exploded into a cloud of red-stained stuffing. He came out from behind the screen to be greeted by a concerned Professor Lupin.

“Hamish, are you alright?” he asked him.

Hamish hated the way his voice shook. “I’m fine sir, jus’ forgot what the boggart might do.”

“Well if you need to talk about it you know where my office is,” Professor Lupin patted his shoulder.

)(

The incident was largely forgotten by the evening when Ronnie and Holly returned before dinner following their Divination exam. He and Heracles were relaxing over a game of Exploding Snap when they entered the common room whispering furiously.

“Somethin’ up?” Hamish asked as they sat down on the sofa.

“It’s Professor Trelawney, I’m not so sure she’s a complete fraud,” Holly said, lowering her voice as a group of fourth years bustled past.

“Of course she is, she just makes educated guesses that sound vague enough people so assume she predicted something,” Heracles shot back.

“No Cles, let me explain,” Holly sighed in exasperation before Ronnie could say anything. “I was gonna leave the room when she said something in a voice that was not like her. She was stiff and staring through me. And then as soon, as it had happened, it was over.”

“Well what did she say?” Heracles asked.

“Something about a servant and master being reunited after years,” Holly scrunched her face. “I think she means Voldemort and Black, and she said tonight.”

“Oh no!” Heracles leapt to his feet. “Buckbeak’s being executed tonight too. I can’t believe I didn’t think of anything.”

Hamish tugged his friend back into his seat. “Don’t worry, we’ll go and see Hagrid tonight. We may not be able tae save Buckbeak, but we can give Hagrid some company.”

“Yeah, all of us, Cles,” Ronnie smiled. “It’s our fault too, not helping you with the case.”

)(

After dinner, tucked under the Invisibility Cloak, Hamish, Holly, Heracles and Ronnie crept down to Hagrid’s hut. Hamish was thankful he wasn’t among those sitting the Astronomy exam, or he would have had to stay in uniform and suffer the bitter cold at the top of the Astronomy Tower. As it was, he had had little time to tie his laces after getting changed, and now he struggled to avoid catching them under Ronnie’s feet.

Holly rapped on Hagrid’s door loudly.

“Who’s there?” Hagrid asked the thin air in front of him as he answered.

“We’re under the Cloak,” said Holly. “Let us in.”

Hagrid stood to the side, allowing the quartet to shuffle inside. Holly tugged the Cloak off them and Hamish blinked as he took in the room. Hagrid was not doing well, and his hands shook as he tried to pour them some butterbeer. It sloshed over the table.

“Here Hagrid, allow me.” Heracles took the butterbeer from Hagrid and poured them each a mug.

“Yeh shouldn’ta come,” Hagrid sighed, sitting heavily on a chair that creaked feebly. “You ‘specially Holly, yeh could get in serious trouble if yeh were found ‘ere.”

“Here you are, Hagrid,” Heracles passed him his butterbeer before joining Hamish and Ronnie on the sofa.

“Hagrid, when was the last time you changed your sheets?” Ronnie asked.

Hagrid looked up from his mug. “A while,” he muttered. “Everythin’s jus’ bin so up in the air, I ‘aven’ ‘ad time. An’ I bin tryin’ ter keep Beaky ‘appy.”

When Hamish looked outside, Buckbeak was sat amongst the giant pumpkins, picking at the remains of a stoat. Out of the corner of his eye Hamish saw a grey blur from behind Hagrid’s dresser. A grey rat scuttled inside the milk jug.

“Dumbledore’s said ‘e’d come, te be with me when they…” Hagrid was saying. “Great man Dumbledore, great man.”

Hamish stood and placed his mug back on the table and slowly walked over to the jug. Quick as a flash, he placed his hand inside. A squeaking ball of matted fur emerged with his hand.

“Scabbers?!” Ronnie cried as her rat was handed over to her.

“I think ye might need to apologise,” Hamish snorted.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Right, sorry Heracles.”

“That doesn’t matter guys,” Holly was stood, looking out of the window. “They’re coming. Quickly, under the Cloak!”

“Yeh need to go, all o’ yeh!” Hagrid got to his feet.

“Hagrid, we have the Cloak, we can stay,” Heracles argued.

But Hagrid was having none of it. “No, I don’t want yeh seein’ this. If yeh get caught we’ll all be in trouble.”

He pushed them out of the back door, shooing them along. He went back to the front door to greet the Minister for Magic, an elderly wizard Hamish assumed to the representative of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Professor Dumbledore and the executioner.

“McNair,” Hamish growled.

“What?” Holly asked.

“I’ll tell you guys later, we should jus’ get back to the castle,” he replied.

They were getting close to the doors when a bottle-brush tail signalled to Hamish that Crookshanks was blocking their path. He could see through the Cloak.

“Oh go away Crookshanks, not now,” Heracles frantically whispered.

Ronnie was having her own problems. “Stay still, Scabbers, stay still-ow!”

Scabbers had bitten Ronnie’s finger before leaping from her hands. He dashed away through the grass, Crookshanks hot on his heels. Ronnie tore from under the Cloak.

“Scabbers, come back!”

Hamish glanced at his friends.

“We should go after her,” said Holly in a clipped manner, throwing the Cloak off. They ran after Ronnie’s shouts, trying their best to compensate for her headstart.

They found her, clutching Scabbers to her chest, Crookshanks having scampered back to their feet. There was something familiar about the tree behind her. Perhaps it was the knotted trunk, but Hamish had the distinct impression it was coiled in anger. He just couldn’t seem to place it. Holly, meanwhile, took a different approach.

“Ronnie, get back! It’s the Whomping Willow!” Holly yelled, forcing Ronnie’s attention back to them.

Only Ronnie’s attention was in fact directed behind them. “Holly, it’s the Grim!”

They whirled around to find a great black dog growling before them, with its hackles raised threateningly. Slowly, the trio backed away. With a bark, the dog charged, leaping over their heads and knocking them to the ground. A cry of alarm broke Hamish’s groan of pain; he looked up to find the dog’s jaws clamped around Ronnie’s ankle. She was yelling in fear, arms stretched out as she tried to grab hold of the grass.

“Ronnie!” Holly cried, diving after their friend. Hamish followed, scrambling in a futile attempt to reach her.

The dog dragged Ronnie down a hole between the roots. The three were left, panting on all fours as their friend’s screams were echoed by Scabber’s squealing as the pair were taken down the hole.

Hamish’s fear was broken by the sound of creaking branches and rustling leaves. The Whomping Willow was not happy. A branch snapped in his face, driving Hamish back. Holly and Heracles were also in a similar position, branches waving menacingly close to them, forcing the trio to backpedal furiously.

A flash of ginger alerted Hamish to Crookshanks, who was darting around the flailing branches. He pressed a paw to a knot in the trunk, and as quickly as it had started, the Willow returned to its original immobile state.

“Follow Crookshanks,” Heracles led the way down the hole, tumbling with as much grace as a sack of potatoes. “Oof, no rocks, just a leafy floor, guys.”

“Quick, before the Willow wakes up!” Holly all but pushed Hamish down the hole. He skidded along a tunnel worn by use, roots catching his clothes when he fell through the other side onto the bed of leaves. He was about to get out of the way, when Holly landed heavily on his back with a squeak.

“Sorry,” she apologised, rolling off his back and giving a hand up.

“Nevermind that, where are we?” he asked, brushing off the leaves.

Heracles looked around the earthy chamber they were in. “I don’t know, one of the secret passages out of Hogwarts? Where does this lead?” He pointed to the tunnel leading off from the chamber.

“I have a hunch,” said Holly, leading the way forward. “I just hope I’m wrong.”

Hamish pulled his wand from his pocket and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie.

 _“Lumos!”_ Holly lit her wand as she entered the tunnel. Hamish followed, holding up the floorboards for Heracles when they emerged into an apparently abandoned house. It creaked and groaned where they trod, and Hamish knew instantaneously where they were.

“We’re in the Shriekin’ Shack,” he whispered.

“Yes, and look, footprints up the stairs,” Heracles pointed to the muddy tracks.

Holly was already halfway up the stairs, following the prints to a room whose door was barely attached to its hinges. Heracles was muttering to himself as he came up behind Hamish.

“The prints have changed shape…..oh no, Holly!”

But whatever that meant went out of the window as Holly dashed into the room, Hamish on her tail. Trussed up by ropes, a gag in her mouth, Ronnie was in a sorry state. Her jumper was torn in places, and stained heavily with earth. Holly pulled the gag from her mouth.

Ronnie gulped a lungful of air. “Holly, it’s her, she’s the dog, she’s an-”

The door slammed shut, trapping the four of them with an emaciated, insane-looking woman. “An animagus.” Sirius Black’s voice was croaky, as if not used to speaking for a long time.


	13. Heracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet encounter Black, Heracles reveals a secret and the gang are surprised.

**Heracles**

The four of them crouched stock-still, as if waiting for an axe to fall. When it did, the axe came in the form of Holly launching herself across the room, a strangled yell escaping her lips.

“Holly!” Heracles cried.

She crashed into Black in the same way a soft pillow doesn’t, the pair falling heavily to the floor. Holly straddled Black, her wand pointed firmly at her throat. Heracles waited for her to make her next move, Hamish holding down Ronnie, who looked as if she might join Holly at any moment.

“Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you,” Holly grunted.

“Because she didn’t kill your parents,” Heracles breathed.

Holly’s head snapped around. “What?!”

Before Heracles could explain however, Professor Lupin slammed the door open.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ Holly’s wand shot from her hand, Professor Lupin deftly catching it. “Well Sirius, it would appear the exterior finally matches the madness within. Holly, now might be a time to remove yourself from her.”

Shocked and stunned, Holly got up and joined Heracles by the wardrobe.

“And you’d know about the madness within, Remus,” Black replied as Professor Lupin helped her to her feet.

“But, Professor?!” Ronnie piped up.

“I will explain,” he answered before turning back to Black. “I take it you’ve got her? Why else would these four be in here.”

“You mean they get in trouble too?” Black seemed pleased. “Atta girl, Holly.”

Holly flinched at Black speaking to her. Heracles was tempted to explain, but knew Professor Lupin would do so regardless.

“She’s here,” Black was continuing. “We can finally have our revenge.”

“Would now be a good time to reveal your lycanthropy, Professor?” Heracles interrupted Black’s ravings.

“What?!” It was Hamish’s turn to gasp.

“Is that why you’ve been missing lessons, Professor?” Ronnie asked.

“To answer your question, Ronnie, yes. However, I must say, Heracles, that your skills of deduction are good. How did you know?” Professor Lupin turned to him.

“I thought it was obvious,” he replied. “Your boggart is the moon, your “illness” occurred during the full moon, Professor Snape brings you Wolfsbane Potion each day of the cycle, and the scarring on your face suggests traumatic periods in wolf form prior to Wolfsbane being invented.”

“Come on Remus, we can do this later, after we’ve disposed of her!” Black cursed.

“No, Holly needs to know why. You can wait,” Professor Lupin said sharply.

Black did not take calmly to this. “Wait?! You realise how long I’ve waited? Twelve years, in Azkaban!”

“And Holly deserves an explanation.”

“I know why,” said Holly. “You killed my parents, and now you’re here to finish the job.”

“I hope ye’re prepared to go through me,” Hamish said, coming to stand beside her.

“And me,” Ronnie joined in, defiantly hobbling over to Holly.

“I would,” Heracles’s measured tone surprised them. “Only I don’t think Black is here to kill you Holly. For a murderer intent on their next victim, her efforts have been rather half-hearted.”

“Thank you, Heracles,” Professor Lupin drew their attention back to the explanation. “The issue really stems from my lycanthropy. It’s the whole reason this place exists,” he said, gesturing to the room they were in. “The Whomping Willow was planted on the entrance to the secret passage to the Shack. Professor Dumbledore’s idea: every night before I turned, Madam Pomfrey would take me to the willow. I would turn in the relative safety of the Shack, the only person on which I could turn my canine aggressions being myself.

“Only I didn’t count on my friends picking up on my “hairy little problem”.” Black snorted. “Naturally I was terrified they would out me, werewolves being shunned by common society. Instead they did the kindest thing and set out to become animagi. Sirius here turns into a black dog, Petra became a rat, useful for touching the immobilising knot on the Willow’s bark, and Holly,” he turned to her. “Your father’s animagus form was a stag. Together he and Sirius could keep my more violent impulses in check. It turned my nights of agony into wild night-time escapades.”

There was one question Heracles wanted answering however. “Weren’t you in Hogwarts with Snape?”

“Yes,” Professor Lupin didn’t seem pleased at being reminded. “He never did get on with us, particularly after the prank. Sirius thought it would be funny if she told him about the secret passage under the Willow. If it weren’t for James, Professor Snape wouldn’t be with us today.”

“And a very amusing joke it was too,” Professor Snape said coldly from the doorway.


	14. Hamish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Lupin gives an explanation, Scabbers is not all that she seems and the moon begins a night of danger and excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter was so short it hardly seemed worth attaching any notes. These will cover it too regardless. 
> 
> I managed to write two new chapters :D. However, this rate of writing is unlikely to remain constant, I've got assignments due in the next few weeks so my priorities clearly are on those. I've also got this pesky thing called a life to attend to, so don't expect anything new here for a while. 
> 
> That said, I have spent a good number of hours over Christmas drawing characters and soon I'll be able to post those on deviantart. My account can be found here: http://cheesew97.deviantart.com/  
> Watch this space...

**Hamish**

_“Expelliarmus!”_

Wands flew from Professor Lupin’s hands and clattered to the floor by Professor Snape’s feet.

“Thank you for your Cloak, Miss Potter,” he sneered as he cast away the item.

“How did you find us, Severus?” Professor Lupin asked.

“I simply went to give you your potion tonight, when I found a curious piece of parchment.” Smugness exuded from Snape like a sickly miasma. “When I got to the Willow, Miss Potter here had left her Cloak.”

“Why don’t you go and play with your chemistry set?” Black said tauntingly.

“Because I think the Dementors would very much like to see you,” Holly flinched with Black. “And these four are out past curfew, consorting with a werewolf and a mass murderer.”

“Professor, with all due respect, Professor Lupin was explainin’ the situation,” Hamish took a step forward, only for Snape to turn his wand on him.

“Mr Williams, this isn’t the first time you have spoken out of turn, now would be the best time to remain silent!” Snape scolded. “Now, if you four would just come here we can proceed.”

Supporting Ronnie, Hamish and Heracles made their way over to Snape. Holly followed them reluctantly when-

 _“Stupefy!”_ Snape flew across the room, landing heavily in a moth-eaten armchair.

“Hamish, you attacked a teacher!” Heracles gasped.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, a pain in the arse teacher.”

“This is all very good, Remus, but the clock is ticking. If we’re going to kill her we have to do it soon,” Black stamped her feet.

“And by her, I presume you don’t mean Holly,” Heracles said. “By all accounts, you, Ms. Black, were James Potter’s best friend, you left your family for their extreme views, and your efforts to “kill” Holly have left a lot to be desired.”

“Very good, Heracles,” Professor Lupin beamed as he collected his wand, tossing Holly her wand. “I thought Black had indeed betrayed Lily and James. That is, until Holly came into possession of our Map.”

“Your Map?” Holly asked perplexedly.

“I was Moony due to my lycanthropy,” Professor Lupin explained. “Sirius here was Padfoot, Petra, Wormtail, and James was Prongs. We were Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. When Holly told me Petra Pettigrew was roaming the castle, I knew that Sirius was innocent. Petra had simply faked her death after betraying your parents, Holly.”

Black took up the story with glee. “And she’s right here in this room.” Her finger pointed to Ronnie.

“Me?!” Ronnie said aghast.

“No not you, your rat.”

“But Scabbers has been in my family for-”

“Twelve years, Ronnie,” Heracles cut across her. “A remarkable age for any rat. You must have noticed how sick she’s been looking since Black escaped. Look at her left foot, it’s missing a toe.”

“The only part they could find of Pettigrew was her finger,” Hamish breathed.

“Exactly, Hamish,” Heracles nodded. “So imagine Sirius’s surprise when an image of the Weasley family appeared with a rat matching Pettigrew’s animagus form completely.”

“How did you know that?” Black asked.

“I guessed, though you’ve now confirmed my suspicions. A visitor dropped a copy of that edition of the Daily Prophet. You must have escaped in your own animagus form, the emotions of animals being harder for Dementors to detect, and thus made your way to Hogwarts where you attempted to catch Pettigrew.”

“You people realise you’re mad, right?” Ronnie hobbled backwards into the corner, Scabbers clutched protectively to her chest.

Heracles’s reasoning did seem to make sense, Hamish mused. “Ronnie, let Professor Lupin have a look at Scabbers. Either it’s Pettigrew, or he’ll know what’s wrong with her.”

“Fine, but I still say you’re crazy,” she said, reluctantly handing over Scabbers to Hamish.

“It’s a simple spell,” Professor Lupin assured them. “If Scabbers really is just a rat then she won’t feel a thing.”

Hamish placed the struggling Scabbers on the sofa.

Professor Lupin drew his wand and gave it a short twirl. They all gasped as Scabbers rose, writhing in the air. A short flash, and a woman sat blinking on the sofa. She was short and looked as if she had been portly but recently lost weight through stress. Her features reminded Hamish of Scabbers; the way she moved was like that of a rodent.

“Hey Petra,” Black came behind her. “Long time no see.”

“Sirius, Remus, i-it’s b-been s-s-so long-g,” she stuttered in response.

Hamish was at a loss for words; Scabbers, Ronnie’s “useless rat” had been a woman in hiding for thirteen years.

Professor Lupin moved to stand in front of Pettigrew, forming an obvious barrier between her and the door. “I think you know why we’re here, Petra,” he spoke softly, but Hamish could hear the threat in his voice.

“I-if this is about- you know she d-did it,” Pettigrew spluttered.

“There’s no need to lie, Petra, Holly’s right here with us,” Black cut short Pettigrew’s verbal fumbling.

Pettigrew’s eyes skimmed over the quartet, landing on Holly.

“Ok, I admit it,” Pettigrew’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “But what was I to do?!” She turned to Black. “Do y-ou have any idea of the weapons the Dark Lord has at his disposal?!”

“I would have died rather than betray James and Lily, they were my friends,” Black shot back with venom.

“We thought they were your friends, Petra,” Professor Lupin said with some disappointment.

“They- I could have died!”

Black snorted. “Well, tonight we’re going to change that mistake.” She glanced to Professor Lupin. “Mind if I do the honours?”

“Not at all,” Professor Lupin tossed her his wand.

Quick as a flash, Pettigrew dashed across the room and was in Hamish’s face, hands fastened around his shoulders.

“You have to help me, boy,” she cried into his ear.

“Get away from him!” Professor Lupin yelled, dragging Pettigrew back to the sofa. If anything, she looked even more pathetic.

Hamish rubbed his shoulders. Her hands would leave bruises.

“P-please,” Pettigrew sobbed. “Ronnie, wasn’t I a good rat? You wouldn’t let them do this?” Ronnie’s grimace told a different tale. “You, boy, you’re clever, you know killing me w-would be a t-terrible idea.” Heracles seemed to think differently.

“No,” Holly said, causing Black to pause.

Professor Lupin sounded scandalous. “Holly, you realise this woman is the reason your parents are dead?!”

“You heard me, no,” she said more firmly. Black lowered the wand, her face of shock was more than enough for Pettigrew to break out into gasps.

“Thank you, girl,” she snuffled.

“I didn’t say you could go,” Holly snapped. “I don’t want my parents’ friends to become killers. Besides, the Dementors are waiting.”

“Holly wha-?” Hamish began.

“I believe them, but killing Wormtail isn’t going to clear Sirius’s name,” she told them.

)(

Hamish followed behind Ronnie with Heracles She had insisted she would watch Pettigrew with Professor Lupin. Hamish had an inkling it may have had something to do with the fact that Pettigrew had used her ignorance.

Holly and Sirius trailed after them, Sirius floating Snape along in front of the pair. That his head was being occasionally bounced against the passage ceiling Hamish suspected to be no accident.

The group scrambled out of the passage, Ronnie and Professor Lupin having some difficulty with the weight of Pettigrew.

“Right, let’s get back to the castle,” Professor Lupin said quickly. “Professor Dumbledore will want to see this.”

Holly and Sirius, however, had moved to the side. “Professor, we should wait a wee bit.”

“I see,” he said on seeing the pair “However, we should move quickly. I haven’t taken my potion and there is a full moon tonight.”

Hamish blanched at the implication. The night was indeed far from cloudy. For the time being the moon was covered in cloud, but Hamish could already see them moving.

“Holly!” Hamish cried.

She and Sirius whipped around to find him pointing at the rapidly appearing moon. Black rushed over to them, panic evident in her face.

“Remus, tell me you’ve taken the potion tonight!”

But Professor Lupin didn’t appear to be in any position to confirm this. In fact, his lengthening canines highlighted the transformation already underway.

Hamish took a leaf from Ronnie’s book and moved backwards, away from Professor Lupin and Black.

“Pettigrew!” Holly yelled, prompting Hamish to twist on his feet. It was too late however, as Pettigrew shrank back into her rat form and scuttled off into the grass.

Holly and Hamish tried to give chase, but to no avail when a large shape leapt in their path. Standing in front of them was a werewolf. Sirius joined them.

“Professor?” Hamish asked, half-hoping some remnant of Professor Lupin had been left behind. The growl that answered him was more than enough to force them all backwards.

However, before it could take a step towards them, a great, shaggy black dog flew through the air. It collided heavily with the werewolf, forcing it to fall. The wolf and dog wrestled down the incline into the ferns.

“We have to help Sirius!” Holly shouted, leaping to follow.

“Holly, it’s too dangerous!” Heracles shouted after, his warning falling on deaf ears.

“I’ll get her, you stay with Ronnie,” Hamish yelled as he too plunged down the hill into the ferns.

Bracken crunched underfoot as Hamish ran to where he could see Holly’s red hair. The werewolf was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s?...” Hamish left the question open.

“I don’t know,” Holly replied from where she knelt. “But Sirius is hurt, come help me.”

Sirius was indeed not in a good shape when Hamish came around the patch of ferns. Reverted to human form, the deep gashes oozed blood from his chest.

“I’ll take his legs,” Hamish began, only for Holly to place a hand on his arm. Their breaths were coming out in misty puffs. The bracken and ferns had frozen with the dew on them. Hamish could feel it again, the feeling of his strength and happiness being sapped from him.

Holly gasped. Dementors were circling above them. Hamish began to feel faint as he began to hear his father’s cries.

“Galbraith, no!”

“There’s nothing you can do, brother, I’ve been chosen.”

“Think of Hamish! Of us!”

Hamish was having trouble standing. He fell to his knees, cold creeping into his chest. A look at Holly showed she too was having trouble.

 _“Expecto patronum!”_ she cried, puffs of white, glowing smoke coming from the end of her wand.

Whatever spell it was seemed to have little effect, as she too sank to her knees.

“Expecto…..expecto…” Blackness swelled in Hamish’s vision.

Blood splattered on the teddy bear.

A Dementor floated before him.

“What does it matter?!”

It lowered its hood.

“Of course it matters!”

Suddenly, a bright light washed over the scene. Warmth began to slowly return to his limbs, the voices faded from his head, the Dementors flew off, and Hamish did what any respectable thirteen-year-old wizard would do, and promptly allowed himself to fall unconscious beside Holly.


	15. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape gets a promotion, Heracles reveals a secret and Holly gains confidence. Meanwhile Sirius escapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since I've had time to post anything lately. I'm gonna blame work and life generally because I can. Almost at the end of this year, and while the changes have been few, I hope you notice the small things, because they will become more relevant as time passes.

**Holly**

“…yes, very well done, Professor.”

Holly awoke slowly, as if emerging from hibernation. The sound of voices penetrated her torpor and, slowly, she regained consciousness. The feel of sheets and a soft pillow told her she was in the infirmary. Holly opened her eyes a crack, staring at the ceiling. She turned her head to find Heracles’s eye wide open, listening to the words being spoken. He gave her a barely imperceptible nod.

“Capturing Black and saving four children, one of them our own Holly Potter! I think Headman Talit would agree with your awarding of the Order of Merlin,” said Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.

“Thank you, Minister,” Snape replied. “Though I must say that this isn’t the first time Holly Potter and her gang have had to be rescued.”

“You mean?”

“Miss Potter has an extraordinary likeness to her father in her propensity to get herself into trouble. Naturally the headmaster takes a lax view on the matter. I, however, try to treat her just as I would any member of my house,” Holly could almost hear the sneer in his voice. “He has allowed her to parade around the grounds with next to no impunity. In any other context a pupil would be expelled for this kind of stunt.”

“Well we must excuse some indulgence on their part. After all, they are still young.”

The bustling sound of Madam Pomfrey prompted Holly to turn over to find the matron placing potions by the bedside of Ronnie and Hamish. Her friends were still unconscious.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” the matron said grudgingly, passing them bars of chocolate. “Honestly, the nerve they have to discuss such serious matters in my infirmary. Eat those and then get some rest.”

“Ah Poppy, I trust they will make a full recovery,” Fudge smiled as she came up to the pair.

“They certainly would if you two gentlemen would remove yourselves from my infirmary,” she replied angrily.

It was at that moment that Professor Dumbledore entered the infirmary.

“Professor, please, I must ask you too to leave this instant, I have patients resting.”

“Indeed you do, Poppy,” he said calmly. “However, I must speak to Holly and Heracles very briefly, afterwards I will follow your every wish in vacating your domain.”

“Quite,” Fudge said, glancing at his watch. “Well I’d best be off, the Dementors will arrive at any moment. Care to join me Severus?”

“Of course, Minister,” Snape replied.

“But Minister, you can’t!” Heracles cried, surprising Holly as the first to react.

She hopped out of bed to follow him. “You’ve got the wrong man!”

“Yes, you can see Minister, Black must have put these children under the Confundus charm,” Snape shook his head.

“Minister!” Holly pleaded, but Fudge was having none of it.

“You just get back to your beds, children, you should be resting,” he chided, before leading the way out of the infirmary, Snape following him like a bat.

“I’m afraid that while I believe you, the word of two thirteen year olds will not convince everyone,” Professor Dumbledore told them calmly the minute the doors had closed.

“What do we do then, professor?” Holly asked, her usual determination back on her face.

“We cannot hope to find Pettigrew now, however there is a way you two could save more than one life,” Professor Dumbledore looked pensive for a moment, then he turned to Heracles. “If only we had more time,” he said cryptically.

Heracles seemed to know what Professor Dumbledore meant.

“Holly, come here,” he said, pulling his timeturner out of his pocket.

“I’d imagine three turns should do the trick,” Professor Dumbledore said nonchalantly. “You remember the laws, my boy, you must not be seen.”

“Yes, professor,” he replied, slipping the chains around his and Holly’s necks.

“Cles, what’s going-” she began.

“Now I am going to lock you in,” Professor Dumbledore said, cutting off Holly’s protests. “I would suggest tracing back your steps, I find it helps when I am lost.”

The door shut with a click. Heracles gave what looked like a miniature brass sand timer three twists.

It was if they were watching a film played backwards, rewinding the conversation they had just had with Professor Dumbledore, protesting the Minister’s decision, they’re unconscious forms being brought into the infirmary. The film sped up, people fading into bustling shapes until finally, after what felt like an age, the film stopped. The infirmary was empty, the sun was still in the sky, though Heracles could see its rays lengthening.

“Three hours ago, where were we?” he asked Holly quickly.

“On our way down to see Hagrid,” Holly replied, her eyes flashing in confusion. “What just happened?”

“We just travelled back in time three hours, Holly,” he said, rushing out of the infirmary. They had to catch up with themselves. “I’ve been using this Timeturner to get to all my classes.”

Before Holly could reply, however, the sound of footsteps forced Heracles to push her into an alcove. He put a finger to his lips as the patter of several feet went by; sticking his head from out of the alcove, he saw no one there. It must have been them under the cloak - he and Holly would have to be careful not to be seen.

“That was us,” he whispered. “On our way down to Hagrid’s.”

“Let’s go,” Holly suggested.

Heracles nodded.

Slowly, the pair left the alcove and followed the sound of footsteps.

“Dumbledore said we might be able to save more than one life,” Holly said as they went. “But I can only think of Sirius.”

“I think he meant Buckbeak,” said Heracles. “Though it’ll have to be fast.”

As they came outside, Heracles tapped her shoulder. “Let’s go a little into the trees, they’ll provide cover if we turn around.”

“Oh, hello Holly,” a soft, dreamy voice interrupted their scramble for cover. Luna Lovegood was skipping back up to the castle, her feet bare.

“Luna, why are you out so late?” Holly asked.

“I’ve been to see Hagrid; his hippogriff is being executed tonight did you know?” she replied.

Heracles piped up. “We really ought to go Holly.”

“Ooo yes,” Luna added. “I think the executioner’s coming, if you want to save Buckbeak and not be seen you should get into the trees.”

“How did you-” But before she could ask, Heracles was dragging her into the trees.

“Bye Holly,” Luna waved dreamily, skipping back up the hill.

Holly was still a little confused by the situation, but she acquiesced nonetheless, ducking under some of the lower branches. Thankfully it wasn’t much further to Hagrid’s, and Holly nearly threw herself behind some of his larger pumpkins. Heracles was quick to join her.

Someone rapped on the door.

“Who’s there?” Hagrid asked on opening the door.

Holly nearly fell when she heard herself answer “It’s us, we’re under the Cloak. Let us in.”

Hagrid stepped to the side and closed the door.

Heracles turned to her. “We should get back into the trees before we come out again.”

“What about Buckbeak?”

“If the committee don’t see him then they’ll assume Hagrid set him free,” Heracles explained, pulling her behind a maple. “We have to let them see Buckbeak first.”

And not a moment too soon, for their past selves burst out of Hagrid’s hut and snuck around the pumpkins themselves. In Ronnie’s pocket, Holly could see the bulge where Pettigrew sat. Before she could anything, however, the Cloak hid the quartet from sight.

Professor Dumbledore had joined the committee member, a wizened old man struggling with a cane, the Minister, and the executioner, McNair.

“Ah hello, Hagrid, “ he said as Hagrid opened the door to the party.

“Professor Dumbledore, Minister, Mr Crickworth,” he nodded in return.

Mr Crickworth almost looked sorry as he looked at Buckbeak, chained to his post in the pumpkin patch. “Ghastly business Hagrid, terribly sorry about all this.”

“Yeh,” Hagrid replied mournfully. “Still, yeh migh’ as well come inside.”

The party trooped inside Hagrid’s hut.

“Now Holly, go!” Heracles whispered. They stepped out from under the branches, Heracles making a beeline for the pile of dead ferrets, Holly cautiously making her way over to Buckbeak. He croaked when he noticed her. Perhaps it was the sight of McNair’s axe, or that he was chained to a post, but Holly couldn’t help but notice there was something lacking from him since the last time she had seen him.

Not one to want to lose her head to a grumpy hippogriff, Holly bowed before him. From inside, she could hear the Minister speaking.

“And I sign here as witness, do I?”

“Don’t you think I ought to sign too, Giles?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

Mr Crickworth replied. “Yes, but be quick about it.”

Buckbeak his head in return. Holly unwound the chain from around the post, giving it a tug to get Buckbeak on his feet. Heracles threw him a ferret, which the hippogriff deftly caught in his beak.

“It is a rather long name.”  

“Ah McNair, you have to sign too,” the Minister piped up. McNair presumably was getting a little too enthusiastic.

Holly tugged frantically on the chain as the door opened, Buckbeak trotted behind, far too slowly in her mind. Heracles threw another ferret, mercifully speeding the trio into the forest.

“Well good heavens, where is the beast?!” Holly heard Fudge cry out.

Thankfully they were too far into the woods for Fudge to see, but Holly took great delight at seeing the anger on McNair’s face.

“We should search the grounds!”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “Search the skies if you must, my dear fellow. I meanwhile, will take a spot of tea with Hagrid, care to join us, Giles, Minister?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid, Albus, lots to do,” the Minister declined, slipping his lime green bowler back onto his head. 

“Oh well, now that I’m here I may as well,” Mr Crickworth chuckled.

McNair and the Minister began trudging back up to the castle, leaving Mr Crickworth and Professor Dumbledore to request their teas as Hagrid muttered to himself.

“Well done, Beaky, well done.”

“What now?” Holly asked Heracles.

“Now we wait,” he replied. “I think right now we’ll be chasing Ronnie down the Whomping Willow, then we’ll come back, Professor Lupin will transform and Pettigrew will escape.” Holly tensed at that. “There’s nothing we can do, Holly, it’s already happened. Besides, trying to catch a rat in the dark would be impossible.”

Holly gave the rope a tug as Buckbeak strained to get back to Hagrid. “Fine, but let’s wait where we can see the Willow.”

She led the way through the trees, occasionally tugging on the rope if Heracles waving a ferret wasn’t enough incentive for Buckbeak to move away from Hagrid. When they reached a clearing from which they could see the Willow, Holly looked around for a stump where she could tie the rope. Thankfully one wasn’t too far, and she quickly looped the rope around it.

Heracles was already sitting on a rock when she finished. “I suppose you’ll want to wash the Cloak after seeing Snape touch it,” he remarked.

Holly snorted. “Is he picking it up now?”

“Yes,” Heracles replied.

Indeed, Snape was, holding the Cloak with some disdain before slipping under it.

“Headman Talit’s looking for other premises,” Heracles said offhand.

“Really?” said Holly. She had barely thought about where the refugees would be going next year, recent events had pushed it from her mind.

“I was talking to Handan the other day, she seemed to think it would be somewhere in Wales,” he explained.

“Isn’t the war ending?”

“Yes, but not for the right side,” Heracles shook his head. “The rebels are winning most battles, and I don’t think they’d treat the school well. Apparently, they don’t like the idea that Muggleborns exist.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” Holly grunted.

“True, but for now Malfoy isn’t in any position to act upon her prejudices.”

“She saved me from falling, you know,” Holly said abruptly, unsure why she had just told Heracles that.

“I saw,” he said mildly. “It might have something to do with my rant at her the other day, but I think Ismail’s having an effect on her.”

“How do you know that?”

“Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin in my runes class, was saying how much time they’re spending together,” he explained. “He’s a Muggleborn so I’d say it’s challenging some of her prejudices, for the better from what she did.”

“Heracles, I don’t know if I’ve told you this, but before I fainted I saw someone,” Holly changed the subject.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone cast a Patronus that scattered the Dementors,” she answered. “I don’t know who it was.”

“Perhaps we’ll find out,” Heracles mused.

)(

It was dark by the time Holly saw herself emerge from the Willow, followed by Sirius levitating Snape behind her.

“Heracles, that’s Sirius saying I could live with her,” Holly pointed to where her past self stood with her godmother.

He sighed. “We should get ready.”

Watching the action unfold made Holly realise how much danger they were in. She watched herself chase after Sirius and Professor Lupin. Her stomach turned seeing Pettigrew escape, her powerlessness making her choke.

All too soon and the fight was over. Holly felt Heracles clutch her hand. Turning to him she followed his eyes skywards. Dementors were converging on her past self.

“We should go,” she said briefly, before rushing to the edge of the forest where the trees met the ferns. Condensation was already freezing on them.

A circle of Dementors descended leisurely downwards towards where her past self stood with Hamish.

“Whoever they are, they’ll come,” Holly insisted at Heracles’s sceptical look.

A Dementor swept over Sirius, taking a deep rattling breath.

Heracles’s hand clenched tighter on hers as another followed suit on her. “You’re dying, Holly, we’re watching you die.”

“They’ll come,” Holly said with a lot more confidence than she felt. “They’ll come.”

“Holly, no one’s coming,” Heracles said kindly.

All of a sudden, Holly was taken with a peculiar feeling, she knew exactly what to do. Tearing her hand from Heracles’s, Holly whipped her want from her pocket as she took two steps forwards.

She focused on the feeling, the way she had felt when Professor Dumbledore had told her she wouldn’t be living with the Dursleys anymore, how she had felt when Sirius had offered her the chance to live with her, the feeling of picturing her parents talking to her. She bundled those feelings of joy into her breast, lifted her wand and spoke.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

It started in her chest, a rumble that spread to her shoulder and along her arm. By the time it reached her hand, the rumble had turned into a thunder. Holly struggled to keep her wand straight as something erupted from its tip.

The Dementors turned to face the threat, some casually floating towards her. Her Patronus made quick work of them, knocking them to the side, chasing them away from the crumpled forms in the ferns and filling Holly with a joyful hum.

With the Dementors dealt with, the Patronus swooped back to Holly. It was at this moment that she realised the form it had taken, as the hawk landed on her shoulder.

Heracles gasped.

Holly smiled as the Patronus dissipated into a hazy mist before disappearing altogether.

“We should go, before the rest come to investigate,” Heracles nudged her.

Holly nodded. “Follow them from adistance.”

)(

Buckbeak’s wings brushed against Holly’s legs as he swooped towards the castle. Holly’s mind was buzzing with amazement at what she had achieved half an hour ago.

“Amazing, wasn’t?” She asked over the rush of air.

“What?!” Heracles shouted back.

“I thought it was someone else casting the Patronus, but it was me all along,” Holly yelled in reply. “Only I sort of already knew I could do it because, well I’d already done it. That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Heracles answered grimly.

“Everything all right?”

“You mean aside us being some forty metres above the ground? No, no, nothing’s wrong!”

Holly chuckled; it was common knowledge Heracles didn’t like flying. At least they weren’t far now, as Holly could see the bars on the window to Sirius’s prison.

In minutes they had landed on the tower. Holly leapt from Buckbeak’s back, landing smoothly as Heracles completely failed to do the same, slipping on the stones. She grabbed his arm to stop him from falling.

The door to Sirius’s cell was bolted shut. Holly cursed, startling the occupant.

“Holly? What are you doing here?” Sirius asked in amazement.

“Rescuing you, of course,” she replied with a grin.

“Stand back,” Heracles said, pulling his wand from his pocket. _“Alohomora!”_

The padlock gave a half-hearted click, but remained in place.

Heracles kicked the ground in frustration.

“Let me try,” Holly patted his arm. “Stand back, Sirius. _Bombarda!”_

The padlock wasn’t so much unlocked as blasted off with substantial parts of the doorway. Sirius emerged from the dust grinning.

“So what’s my getaway plan?” she asked.

Holly pointed to Buckbeak. “Buckbeak can fly you to some place safe.”

“If we get down to the quad then you can make your way from there,” Heracles suggested.

The flight down was decidedly more entertaining, Holly and Sirius whooping with pleasure, the sound of Heracles’s “oh no, oh no, oh no” a faint whisper in their ears.

Buckbeak landed with a canter, stopping by the fountain and allowing them to dismount.

“We don’t have much time,” Heracles warned them, glancing at his watch.

Sirius turned to Holly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I should thank you, Holly. If it weren’t for you I’d still be in that tower. More importantly still, I wouldn’t have met the most amazing goddaughter in the world.”

“Where will you go from here?” Holly asked.

“I’m not sure just yet, probably somewhere sunny until my trail goes cold,” she replied. “I’ll be in touch once I’m secure.”

Holly nodded.

“You’ve probably heard this a few times, but you remind me a lot of Lily, except for that nose, that’s James’s,” Sirius said, pulling Holly into an embrace. “They’d be proud, of what you’ve done, of who you’re becoming.”

“We need to go, Holly,” Heracles said softly.

Sirius smiled down at her. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Turning to Heracles, she spoke. “Keep an eye on her; she’s the only goddaughter I’ve got.”

Sirius walked up to Buckbeak, mounting the hippogriff with ease. With a pat of the neck the two were off into the night. Holly stared at their receding figures for a moment before Heracles’ hand pulled her from her vigil.

 They rushed back to the infirmary, panting a puffing.

“Now I am going to lock you in. I would suggest tracing back your steps; I find it helps when I am lost.” Professor Dumbledore’s voice greeted their skid around the corner.

Professor Dumbledore locked the door, turning the greet them.

“Hang on a moment, there, it should be clear for you to enter,” he smiled.

“We did it,” Holly said breathlessly.

“Did what? I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Professor Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling in amusement.

Holly stared in confusion after him.

“Come on, Holly,” Heracles said, forcing her mind back to the infirmary.

She pushed open the door.

“Wait, you guys were just there, now you’re there,” Ronnie could only stare as she lost the power of speech.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re going on about, Ronnie,” Heracles chuckled.

Holly smiled. “Yeah, how can be people be in two places at once?”

Their banter was interrupted by a yell as Snape burst into the infirmary, Fudge and Professor Dumbledore in tow.

“You!” He snarled. “It was you, wasn’t it Potter!”

“Now really, Severus!” Fudge cried. “The children never left the infirmary.”

Madam Pomfrey, alerted to the noise, scurried over. “Professor Dumbledore, Severus, Minister, I must ask you to leave at once. These children need rest!”

“I can confirm, Minister, as can Poppy I presume, that the four here did not leave this room,” Professor Dumbledore said calmly, his eyes twinkling at Holly.

“Indeed, Professor,” Madam Pomfrey nodded. “But now you must leave. The more rest Potter and her friends get, the better.”

“Terribly sorry, Poppy,” Fudge apologised. “Come now Severus, the children need to rest.”

Reluctantly, Snape followed the Minister out of the infirmary, glaring at Holly over his shoulder the way. Professor Dumbledore left after them, humming a chirpy tune.

Holly and Heracles looked at each other, before bursting into fits of giggles.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could get crucified for this.   
> Yes J.K.Rowling obviously created this world from her own imagination, this is just me playing around in it. In short, this is me having a bit of fun, speculating, and attempting to make my interpretation of the world more real. 
> 
> So massive disclaimer, this is not at all how Rowling found inspiration for Harry Potter, simply a fun what-if. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading my puny attempt to imitate the maestro; this year was all about laying the groundwork for the deviances to canon that will become apparent in the years to come. Yup, that's right, this is a long-term project. So if you notice a dearth of new chapters, don't be alarmed, it's just me trying to live my life....that or I've actually abandoned it....because of being dead or something equally dramatic.

**Joanne**

This was the place, she was sure of it.

It had been a while since she had spoken to the girl over the phone, nearly a month ago, long enough for Jo to have forgotten some of the details. Before that it was close to a year since she had been introduced to the world.

She had been staying at a friend’s house whilst looking for a place when it had happened. The television had been playing the news, a piece about an escaped criminal called Sirius Black. While the name had struck her as odd she had thought little of it, until an owl had flown in threw the open window.

It had taken her quite a while to calm down about the initial incident, and about a day to convince herself her friend’s display of magic was in fact real, that she was not dreaming and that “no, I’m not gonna wipe your mind.” .

A writer, Jo had been having difficulty getting her stories published. With the discovery of this new world, however, she could see new possibilities. Not just a new target readership, but also the opportunity to tell the magical community’s stories to the rest of the world.

Jo parked the car on the side of the track, thanking the villagers who had pointed her in the right direction.

It had taken a week or so for her to tease her friend into giving up some ideas for stories she could retell. Finally she had relented, telling Jo about a girl called Holly Potter and her defeat of a dark wizard. Jo was hooked, and spent the subsequent months researching all she could about this girl. Eventually she had managed to contact a Professor Dumbledore, who apparently served to shield the girl from unwanted attention from the press.

It had taken Jo another three months of negotiating with Professor Dumbledore before she could speak to the girl herself. She had been shocked to learn that the girl was only fourteen. Nevertheless, she had agreed to an interview.

So Jo walked along the track towards the house at the end. If she was going to be honest to herself, house was a generous definition; in reality, the structure seemed to be an agglomeration of several shacks, sheds and assorted apartment spaces attached to a small house at the bottom.

She didn’t have time to make much of this as a few shapes swooped behind the house. Looking closer, Jo could see that the shapes were people riding broomsticks. They had to be playing Quidditch, the game her friend had described as “the best sport since sport was invented!”

“Here, Fred!” one cried, receiving a red ball.

“Hamish, the Snitch!”

“Wha?”

“She’s already going for it!”

Jo chuckled, it seemed one of the players was a little distracted.

“No, Holly, you can’t just run on the roof!”

“Too late, mate.”

Indeed one of the players, a girl, was scampering on the tiles after something. Jo caught a flash of gold as she caught up to it. Transfixed, she stood by the gate, watching the girl leap from the roof onto the branch of a tree before jumping onto her waiting broom, another player after her.

Opening the gate, Jo carried on up the path. An old cowbell was affixed by the door and Jo gave it a ring.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” a voice called from inside.

The door was answered by a short, plump woman. “Oh hello, you must be Miss Rowling,” she exclaimed.

“Yes, we spoke over the phone. Mrs Weasley, I presume,” she replied, extending a hand.

Mrs Weasley shook her hand before gesturing inside. “But please, call me Molly. Do come inside.”

The room within was homely, seeming to reflect its owner’s style.

“Lunch won’t be ready for a few minutes, I’m afraid, but you’re more than welcome tothe sofa,” Molly said, pointing to an old sofa.

Jo went to put her bag down, sitting beside it.

“Is this your first time in the wizarding community, Ms Rowling?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jo replied. “You can call me Jo. Ms. sounds a bit too formal for me.”

Molly laughed. “Not to worry, Jo, we don’t bite. Though it’s probably a good thing my husband is at work - he’s fascinated by Muggle life, he’d swamp you with a hundred questions.”

“I’d be happy to answer them,” Jo said light-heartedly.

The sound of feet heralded the arrival of two boys, both tall, gangly and with mops of ginger hair.

“Ah Fred, George, could you set the table?” Molly asked them. “This is Jo, the lady Holly spoke to on the phone.”

“Hello,” said one.

“Good to meet you.” The second led the way with handshaking.

A little taken aback, Jo nonetheless shook their hands. “Hello.”

Fred and George had just finished setting the table when they were joined by another two boys and a girl. The boys were evidently not Weasleys, one with a tangled nest of frizzy hair and chocolate brown eyes, whilst the latter’s wavy hair and sea green eyes set him apart from the Weasleys in the room.

“You must be Ms. Rowling,” the first said with unnerving accuracy. “I’m Heracles Granger.”

“Hello,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I’m Hamish,” the other replied in a soft Edinburgh brogue.

“And this is my youngest, Ginny,” Molly said of the girl now helping her brothers put out glasses. The girl smiled shyly. “Where are Ronnie and Holly?”

“They should be coming right about now,” Heracles replied.

As if on cue, a tall, gangly girl, with hair like her sister and brothers, entered. Behind her came a shorter girl.

“Holly said hi to the ground again,” the first said of the second girl’s appearance.

“I’ll get it right next time,” the other girl smiled ruefully.

 “Holly, Ronnie, this is Jo,” Molly introduced her. “The lady you spoke to on the phone,” she said to Holly.

“Hey,” Ronnie grunted, extending a hand.

“Hello,” Jo answered, shaking it.

The second girl extended her own hand.

She too had red hair, though unlike the Weasleys it was a darker, more vibrant shade; in fact it reminded Jo of fire. Done up in a ponytail, Jo could see a strip had been dyed green, perhaps as another way of distinguishing herself from the family. Her shorts and tank top were stained with dirt and grass, as was much of her arms and face. Her body hinted at a malnourished past, but the face seemed eager to smile; her eyes, which were a deep, emerald green, sparkled with mirth.

“Hi, I’m Holly,” she said as Jo returned the favour. “Welcome to the Burrow, I guess.”

“Thank you, Holly,” Jo smiled. “I can call you that right?”

“Yeah,. it’s fine by me,” Holly replied.

Jo couldn’t help but notice the thin scar on her forehead, which Holly had covered with part of her fringe.

“Right, shall we have lunch first?” Molly said as she set down a pot of potatoes. “Then perhaps, Holly, you could use the privacy of the living room to talk with Jo?”

“Sounds great, Mrs Weasley,” Holly grinned.

The living room did sound like a good idea, for Jo had so many questions.


End file.
